Blood of Ignorance
by Jaenera Targaryen
Summary: When visions flicker through the Warp of evils unleashed by folly and ignorance, the Eldar and the Imperium alike move to keep the Great Enemy from breaching the Veil and reach forth into the material realm. But things are hardly simple, especially where the Inquisition, the Eldar, and the Thousand Sons are involved. Set in Zahariel's Roboutian Heresy universe.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer 40,000 it is owned by Games Workshop.

Disclaimer: _The Roboutian Heresy_ is a FanFiction penned by Zahariel. I have received permission from him to set this piece within the universe of _The Roboutian Heresy_.

Blood of Ignorance

Prologue

 _Artaxerxes could see it with his inner eye._

 _The skies over the world were diseased, as a million colours of every shade imaginable and a million other shades that did and could not exist in reality swirled in a blazing riot over the planet's atmosphere. Corposant crackled in the atmosphere, aurorae flickering madly as lightning flashed and thunder boomed._

 _It was – as one of the Emperor's Children would put it – a terrible but no less grand overture to something to come. The atmosphere was heavy with anticipation, bleeding through time and space through the Warp to touch Artaxerxes' vision._

 _As reality buckled and heaved overhead, war provided an accompaniment below. Hovercraft hummed fast and heavy over the ground, ignoring the tank traps dug and mines laid down by the heretics. Their slender, fish-like forms shrugged off laser bolts and bolt rounds without care, brushing aside barbed wire as burst cannons showered plasma death over the trenches. Rockets soared overhead and slammed into earthworks, sending dirt and bodies flying into the air._

 _Even in the distance, Artaxerxes could see the corruption evident in the flesh of those manning the earthworks. Some had scales in place of skin. Others had tentacles where limbs should be, beaks in place of mouths, and more eyes than a Human should have._

 _Rockets flew back from the heretics' lines. They had dug in on a cluster of hills in the base of a mountain range, their fortifications' robust construction indicating long preparation and planning having been put into action._

 _Artaxerxes saw it then, visions within visions, of dark and terrible rituals in the night over a period of months, hundreds of sacrifices offered up to the gods of Chaos that carved a crest of blood into the world that echoed into the Warp. And the Warp answered._

 _ **Something**_ _was coming. Even across time and space Artaxerxes could feel it through the Warp, the Veil tearing and reality buckling and groaning as_ _ **something**_ _that should not be, a being of principle seeking form in a realm wherein it had no place, struggling to break through and become_ _ **real**_ _._

 _The heretic rockets struck the fish-like vehicles, most of the vehicles shrugging them off with only minimal damage. One however went up in a ball of fire, and another crashed into the ground, belching black smoke into the air._

 _Humanoid forms poured from the ruined vehicle and others like it, the Fire Warriors going to ground as laser and heavy bolter fire lashed out at them. Their armour appeared similar to Imperial carapace armour, though no pattern of advanced headgear that Artaxerxes knew of featured the vertical optics bank their helmets possessed._

 _And neither did Humans nor any recognized abHuman strain possess four-fingered hands as a matter of course._

 _He already knew what they were. He didn't need to see the unit patches on their armour, or their strangely-rectangular, long-barrelled plasma weapons, or even the design of their armour to tell them what the humanoid warriors were. He didn't even need to notice their four-fingered hands, or the blue blood that poured from their wounds and corpses, or even their 'Devilfish' transports that he recognized from a few engagements in the past._

 _He knew. He simply knew they were Tau from the very beginning, the truth revealed to him nonverbally by the Warp, any corruption filtered out by the Rubric, his own intellect, will and judgment, honed to a fine edge by centuries of experience and the inherited wisdom of ten thousand years._

 _Mortars could be heard in the distance, and a series of explosions tore up the Tau positions. The Tau returned fire, Skyrays in the distance silencing the heretic artillery. The Tau advanced by fire and movement, but going was slow, the heretics' interlocking heavy bolter positions inflicting heavy losses on the Fire Warriors, the Devilfishes' support slackening as the slowed advance allowed the heretics to use rockets more effectively._

 _And as the vision progressed, he knew too what was happening. The Tau in their ignorance of the galaxy's dark and the price of naïve idealism had allowed their so-called 'Human helpers' to fall to the Great Enemy's temptations, and to hide their corruption until it was too late._

 _The ruined but excavated and partly-restored temple in the middle of the heretics' positions was proof of it, just as much as the shimmering haze of light and shadow proved the heretics' nefarious designs were nearing completion._

 _They came from the skies, soaring down on wings of fire. Their bulky and hulking forms lacked the familiar visage of assault marines such as those fielded in assault squads or invidual Astartes jump pack specialists, but Artaxerxes could concede – no matter how grudgingly – that the Tau Crisis Suits had their own terrible grandeur._

 _He had seen and fought them before, and warriors respected other warriors._

 _Flamers and missile launchers roared as the Crisis Suits punched through the heretic lines like a sword striking a head off. Rockets exploded harmlessly against their armour, or were avoided by the surprisingly-nimble Tau war machines. Laser fire and bolter fire broke like waves against rock, and heretics died screaming in flames or rippling explosions._

 _As the heretic lines broke, the Tau infantry advanced by fire and movement, Fire Warriors covering their fellow Fire Warriors as they moved to cover and then provided cover for their fellows as they too advanced in their turn. The Devilfish stayed close, burst cannons blazing with plasma fire as they provided heavy fire support._

 _Artaxerxes looked on as the Tau fought their way to the temple, plasma blasts and missiles levelling the ancient ruins as they sought to reach the ritual grounds. And he saw it. A great circle broken at eight points by the eight-pointed star of Chaos Undivided, each point holding aloft a crucified psyker, blood pouring from their tortured forms to fill the grooves cut into the ritual grounds._

 _Artaxerxes wanted to scream, to force the Tau to stop, as he saw them walk right into the heretics' trap. Xenos or not, what was to come was a fate he would not wish on any living being._

 _Death and oblivion were merciful compared to falling into the hands of the Ruinous Powers._

 _A circle of cloaked and hooded heretics bowed and chanted in-sync, facing inward along the edges of the circle, while in the centre wreathed in corposant stood a priest of Chaos. Like its fellow cultists it was cloaked and hooded, but where hands should have emerged from his sleeves a pincer and a claw emerged, and instead of a beard a writhing mass of tentacles hung down from his hood._

 _The leading Crisis Suit broke the circle, and bathed it in flame. A thousand and one sacrifices had been offered to the Warp, and the Veil could take no more.  
_

 _Time stopped. It was only for an instant, but Artaxerxes knew in that instant that the ritual was complete. As one, the cultists screamed, and then blinding light flooded the circle and immolated all within as the crest of blood was completed. A pillar of light and energy erupted with a thunderous roar up into the sky, buffeting aside the corposant and energy rippling through the atmosphere and the streams of Warp energy leaking into space._

 _After several moments the light faded, revealing a Humanoid form floating high over the temple. Only, Humans didn't float. Also, Humans didn't have flawless, smooth, reflective and glowing skin of pure gold. And finally, Humans did not have burningly-bright, perfectly-circular and expressionless eyes of white._

 _The moment stretched, and then the remaining Tau levelled their weapons. They couldn't fire. The being twitched a finger, and they were frozen in place. It raised its hands, palms open and held upwards, and then the Crisis Suits and vehicles crumbled to dust, pilots and crews rising up into the air along with Tau infantry and heretics alike._

 _White streams began to stream from the floating figures, drawn into the open hands of the Daemon Prince. They shrivelled like husks, flesh aging rapidly and unnaturally, until they were mummified corpses hanging in the air. The Daemon Prince didn't move. They fell to the ground, and then the Daemon Prince stretched its arms wide._

 _Blazing light erupted in a great fountain that stretched forth from the Daemon Prince, reaching out to every sapient being on the planet. Most died in an instant, the flesh stripped from their very bones leaving only bleached bones to fall to the ground._

 _They were the lucky ones._

 _The stronger-willed survived, most only to have their flesh flow like wax and their screams turn to insane gibbering or animalistic sounds as their souls were either ripped to shreds or cast out into the Warp to be devoured by hordes of waiting Neverborn. More others yet survived, avoiding the fate of spawnhood to bear witness as an entire world was consumed by the Warp._

 _And then the Daemon Prince let loose its power, plunging the world into the Sea of Souls._

Artaxerxes awoke, gasping and heaving, the crystalline doors of his meditation capsule opening at his awakening. The Thousand Son staggered out, serfs and servitors attending to him. He stripped off his sweat-soaked robe, and replaced it with another.

"Inform Brother Cyril…" he ordered one of his brothers who stood vigil in a circle around the meditation capsule. "…the Great Enemy stirs, drawn by the folly of the ignorant and the weakness of the lacking among Mankind. And inform our guests as well."

Artaxerxes swept a hand over his brow as one of his brothers nodded and sent a telepathic message to the leader of the cabal and then to the Inquisitor they were currently hosting. In hindsight Artaxerxes could have done it himself, but he needed to anchor himself first. The Rubric's protection was not absolute, and it would be prudent to assume that the vision he had received carried at least a small amount of taint. He would have to reflect on his actions, examine himself, and shore up the defences of his mind and soul alike.

Only then could he be certain of his continued psychic purity.

* * *

"The Tau in their ignorance will allow the servants of the Dark Gods to enter this realm." Farseer Macha addressed the leaders of Craftworld Biel-Tan. "On a world once ruled by the mon'keigh Imperium, since taken by the ignorant children of T'au, weakness and folly will bring forth a tide of evil. A prince of the Neverborn will come forth, and cast the world into the Sea of Dreams. From thence it will return in a hundred years and a day, and birth a festering sore in the very fabric of reality, from which evil and horror will spill forth. This cannot be allowed."

As the Farseer finished, one of the exarchs of Biel-Tan's Howling Banshee shrines stood. "Your concerns regarding the Great Enemy are understandable, honoured farseer." The exarch said. "However we do not possess the strength to answer every threat, nor can we afford to do so. Should we not focus our attention on those threats which threaten our craftworld, and the rest of our kin? Even as we speak, a foul tide of greenskins makes its own to a collection of Maiden Worlds along Lilean's Path."

Agreement echoed from the Council of Autarchs and the Court of the Young King. The Seer Council stayed silent however, and it was another farseer which spoke up next. "It cannot be denied that our primary focus should be on the greenskins threatening our kin along Lilean's Path." He said. "However the council has meditated on Farseer Macha's visions and we have ascertained an eventual threat from ignoring it."

He stretched forth his hand, and called forth images of daemons and their corrupted minions fighting against Astartes and Human soldiers. "In time…" the farseer said. "…the return of the corrupted world will be the cornerstone of a corrupted realm, from which a threat will rise to the prison the Anathema's descendants have erected against their corrupted kin."

The images shifted, showing now the Eye of Terror and the Imperium's fleets and armies being driven back, Cadia burning, and to the horror of the Eldar, Ulthwe protected only by the desperate valour of both their fleets and those of the mon'keigh. "This threat shall split the mon'keigh's strength…" the farseer said. "…and weaken the watch they have placed over the corrupted ruins of our empire. The servants of the Dark Gods will come forth at the same time and in the worst case…"

The farseer trailed off, letting the images of Ulthwe burning and breaking, Terra under siege once more, and a tide of demons spilling unstoppably over the galaxy speak for themselves. For a time after the images the Eldar sat silent, cycling their emotions back into balance, and once again Macha spoke.

"The Imperium has not the strength to move against the Tau at this time, their attention drawn by the Great Devourer's advances." She said. "We may warn them yes, but I fear that with their primitive Warp drives even their Inquisition will arrive too late."

"And the mon'keigh being mon'keigh…" an autarch snorted derisively. "…even if they arrive in time they are as likely to make a mess of things as they are to resolve it. And that assumes those mammals would pay heed to our warnings."

"Indeed…" Macha admitted. "…but the Tau are in no way better than the mon'keigh."

"What do you plan to do farseer?" the Young King asked, his words silencing all else.

"Our focus must be against the greenskins." Macha said. "But I ask permission to take a small force with me to deal with the threat. To minimize the risk of precious Eldar lives lost, I shall warn the Tau first of the evil that slumbers in their midst, though it is unlikely they will pay heed. In that case, I will do what I must."

A thoughtful silence filled the air, and then as it began to grow oppressive the Young King spoke. "The council will now deliberate." He said, and Macha bowed before leaving, abstaining from participating in the deliberations due to her personal involvement in the matter.

As she left the council chambers, the doors closed shut behind her with an ominous air.

* * *

A/N

And here we are, a story set in the universe of Zahariel's _The Roboutian Heresy_ , wherein the traitors of canon are the loyalists. A cabal of the XV Legiones Astartes and their Inquisition allies move against a Chaos threat on an unsuspecting Tau world, not knowing the Eldar of Biel-Tan intend to do so as well…and vice-versa.

Beta'd by Zahariel, thank you and thank you again for letting me set this piece within your alternate Warhammer 40,000 universe.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer 40,000 it is owned by Games Workshop.

Disclaimer: _The Roboutian Heresy_ is a FanFiction penned by Zahariel. I have received permission from him to set this piece within the universe of _The Roboutian Heresy_.

Blood of Ignorance

Chapter 1

"Xanthis…!"

The psyker looked up, and following both the presence and the voice turned to look at his approaching fellow acolyte. "Oh hey Castella…" Xanthis Wolfe remarked with a smile. "…did the Inquisitor call?"

Castella Megehra nodded as she walked up to him. Xanthis closed his book and rose from the bench he'd been sitting on, taking a look at the Prosperine garden around them. Though Prospero was long since desolate, its cities destroyed by the treacherous Sixth and the ruins all but swallowed up by the desert, the Thousand Sons had kept elements of their lost original homeworld alive.

One such tradition among the desert people of Prospero was the creation of large, elaborate gardens with plenty of running water, leafy trees and flowering shrubs and bushes, and large patches of verdant grass. One such garden was present within the armoured citadel of the strike cruiser _Isometric_ , and indeed, in all large vessels of the XV Legiones Astartes' fleet.

Despite appearances, it wasn't just a matter of keeping Prospero's traditions alive, or even a matter of 'rounding out' their lifestyles, as much as Astartes had lifestyles, as in the case of the Emperor's Children. As some of the most powerful psykers among Mankind, or even in the whole galaxy, the Thousand Sons understood very well the importance of control.

Like all psykers – well _sanctioned_ psykers at any rate – they knew that any loss of control could leave them vulnerable to the Warp, either causing their powers to go into a devastating and uncontrolled rampage at best, or turning them into possessed or opening a Warp rift at worst. The basic and arguably the most effective means of achieving and maintaining control was meditation, focusing on various mantras such as the Thousand Sons' Enumerations or the various other discipline and control mantras provided by the scholars of the Scholastica Psykana and other Imperial psychic institutions to chain one's emotions and anchor one's mind and soul.

Meditation could technically be done anywhere, even on the battlefield, though it required considerable effort and could distract the adept from matters at hand. For instance, it wasn't exactly easy to focus one's mind on maintaining both one's spiritual barriers, reducing one's psychic echo in the Warp to the barest possible minimum, and collecting and manifesting psychic power into a jet of fire or some other psychic ability all at the same time while dodging shots or swings from an enemy.

Meditation was done best in quiet places with soothing and calming environments. Done sufficiently, one could effectively internalize in memory the effects of such places, and use them to help anchor one's self to maintain and extend control in more hectic situations.

The Prosperine garden in the _Isometric_ was one such place for the Thousand Sons CDXII Cabal, though other places existed aboard. There was the archive aboard for one, and the personal quarters of each legionary, or even the common assembly area among other places. Xanthis had certainly seen more than a few Thousand Sons from the _Isometric_ 's cabal meditating in the Prosperine garden during the times he'd also taken advantage of the place's calm.

There weren't any Thousand Sons present right now though, and Xanthis perceived that whatever reason the Inquisitor was summoning them it was going to involve the Thousand Sons as well.

* * *

Cyril Velarion, Master of the CDXII Cabal of the XV Legiones Astartes cut an imposing figure in his artificer plate, the golden Aquila on his chest a striking contrast to the blood red of his armour. Gold edged his armour sections, while white bordered the pauldrons, the legion emblem of the Thousand Sons emblazoned on the left and the cult emblem of the Athaneans on the right. Purity seals hung from the edges of the pauldrons, a golden chain linking the pauldrons over the Astartes' chest, a gilded Crux Terminatus hanging from the chain where it was hooked onto the left pauldron.

Cyril's helmet was off, an iron halo silhouetting his shaven head from behind, currently inactive, but the psychic hood was, glowing faint blue with the cabal master's psychic aura. A bolt pistol was holstered at the cabal master's left hip, and a force sword with a guard shaped like a pair of eagle's wings was sheathed on the opposite side.

In contrast to the cabal master was Ordo Xenos Inquisitor Weiss von Eiderzeit, the scholarly-looking, middle-aged woman in simple, black, utilitarian wear completely unimpressive next to the Astartes. But any who looked in her eyes would see at once both a spark of intelligence and an unbreakable will, and psykers would sense what could best be described as an impenetrable and inscrutable object.

The only embellishments the Inquisitor possessed were the Inquisitorial rosette pinned over her left breast, and the gold thread and buttons that held her black cape in place. A bolt pistol was holstered at her waist, and simple yet elegant rings glittered on her right hand, at least one of which probably incorporated Jokaero digital weaponry.

Acolytes Xanthis and Castella entered the meeting room, and bowing at the cabal master made their way to stand behind the Inquisitor. One by one, other Astartes filtered into the room, and then the armoured doors were closed, psychic wards falling into place.

Xanthis took a brief but veiled look around. The CDXII Cabal was larger than most Thousand Sons cabals, with fifteen members, six of which held Terminator Honours if their cruxes were any indication.

Xanthis blinked and then focused on the matter at hand. Cyril opened the meeting, and then gave the floor to Artaxerxes, the lone Corvidae in the cabal and its second-in-command.

Inquisitor Weiss listened as the Corvidae detailed his visions, and how he'd confirmed the threat through repeated casting of the runes and the Emperor's Tarot afterwards. Not strictly necessary, Corvidae seers were easily a match for most Eldar Farseers when it came to peering through the mists of time, but considering the nature of the vision it had been judged prudent to confirm just in case.

Artaxerxes finished detailing his visions, and Cyril revealed that he'd already ordered the _Isometric_ to set course for the world of Tijuana, along the Tau-Imperial frontier, which between Artaxerxes' visions, consultation with the _Isometric_ 's Navigator, and the perturbations of the machine spirits of the _Isometric_ 's logic engines, was determined to be the world in question. "Tijuana…?" the Inquisitor echoed. "How unusual, that place isn't worth much."

"Correct…" Cyril said with a nod. "…before its usurpation by the Tau, it was barely a civilized world, which tithed only refined fuel from the system's gas giant, which was refined and stored on Tijuana. If our records are correct, the PDF – even if it hadn't been compromised by xenos sympathizers and renegades – wouldn't have been able to put up more than a token defence before switching to guerrilla warfare."

The Inquisitor leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table. The hololith projected several images into the air: Tijuana, its system, and the surrounding sub-sector. "However…" she said. "…the world could not only be said to have been under-defended, but also undervalued can it not?"

"Quite right…" Cyril conceded. "…it might have had minimal industry and population, but it was a significant source of fuel in the region, and boasted extensive orbital fuelling and maintenance facilities relative to the planet's development. However it was only defended – at the time – by anaemic SDF fighter and bomber squadrons."

"What worries me is that the Tau might have learned from the locals' mistakes when they usurped the planet."Artaxerxes added. "I wouldn't put it past those clever little bastards. And there were those battlesuits I saw in my vision. Battlesuits are elite forces, the Tau's best. For them to be present on a backwater world as this…"

"Tijuana isn't really that important outside of its fuel." Constantine Nimean, who bore the Seal of the Champion opposite his Crux Terminatus put in. "Also, it's rather out of the way. However…"

The champion paused to press several keys on the hololith's control. Two images appeared, one of the adjacent sub-sectors, and another of an Imperial fleet assembling in orbit over a gas giant. "The Imperium is moving to reclaim this sub-sector." Constantine said. "A fairly-sizeable fleet is being assembled for that isn't there? Over a hundred ships, along with a full Imperial Guard army group and a chapter-sized formation from either or both the World Eaters and the Night Lords joining in."

"We'll have to coordinate with them then." Illyrion Cybellium said, the other Athanean in the cabal. "It wouldn't do for us to do as we please _and_ mess up the greater Imperium's operations in the process."

"We are dealing with a potential Chaos incursion." The Inquisitor said. "With that said, yes I see your point. We should coordinate with the upcoming Imperial operation. However, it doesn't seem like you wanted to point only that out, champion."

"Correct…" Constantine said with a nod. "…Tijuana as an out-of-the-way locale along with its plentiful fuel reserves makes it useful to hide a reserve force in for the right time."

"If so then they're underestimating the Night Lords." Artaxerxes remarked dryly. "Apart from the Alpha Legion or the treacherous First, there's no other legion best suited for covert work. They'd see through it in an instant."

"The question is if they can act on it." Cyril added. "The operation in this sub-sector is fairly significant, but ultimately it's just another act in the on-going border conflict between the Imperium and the Tau. With the Tyranid incursions across the entire segmentum, neither of us will risk too many forces in the region. To be honest, the forces our allies are massing would seem large for this conflict, but actually it's only what should be expected for a sub-sector scale campaign. If we disperse them too much, we'd lose the advantages of concentrating our forces and risk giving the Tau the opportunity to defeat our allies one by one."

"Then perhaps we can be of use in the upcoming campaign." Illyrion mused. "Apart from the Chaos threat, we could neutralize Tijuana's assets, such as say destroying the refineries and fuel depots."

"That could work." Cyril agreed, and similar murmurs of agreement rippled through the Thousand Sons gathered. Inquisitor Weiss didn't appear to share the sentiment however, and Cyril noticed this.

"Do you have an objection, Inquisitor?" he asked politely.

"From a purely-strategic point of view that proposal has merit." She said. "But won't it render Tijuana useless for some years after compliance until the fuel refining and storage facilities are repaired?"

"A fair point…" Cyril conceded. "…hmm, perhaps if we only sabotage and disable them? In that way we can still help our allies by taking Tijuana off the board while focusing on the greater threat at the same time."

"I don't think we can neutralize the fuel depots without destroying them." Constantine pointed out. "However, if we destroy the fuel depots and storage facilities, we remove the need to attack the refineries themselves while still achieving our objectives."

Again, murmurs of agreement echoed from the Thousand Sons present. "So we'll destroy the fuel depots to disable by association the refineries. That should work." He said before taking a look around the table. "Any objections…?"

The Thousand Sons and the Inquisitor telepathically replied in the negative, and Cyril nodded. "Excellent, we'll adopt that strategy then." He said. He then manipulated the holo-map to focus on the Tijuana system. "We'll communicate our intentions with our allies. Now, moving on to the operation itself, for now I say we defer any definite plans against the cult until we actually reach the planet. There's not much we can do if we can't do that much after all. We'll use our cloak to approach the planet undetected. Of course, that's useless against active sensor sweeps, so we'll send Thunderhawks in as recon first before making the final approach."

The cabal master swept the table with his eyes. "Once we figure out the scale of their orbital defences, we'll prepare our plans accordingly." He said. "Our first objective is to root out the Chaos cult before they achieve whatever infernal goal they have. Second, it's to support our allies in the upcoming operation. As such secrecy will be paramount, though once the operation begins that may or may not be reduced in importance. Any objections…?"

There were none, and the cabal master nodded. "Very well…" he said. "…this meeting is adjourned then."

* * *

"Inquisitor…" Castella asked as she and Xanthis joined the Inquisitor in her quarters. "…isn't it rather unusual that a Chaos cult would choose a lightly-populated world as their base of operations?"

"What's so unusual about it?" Weiss asked back. "That's probably the whole point. It's an obscure, undervalued backwater, so far beneath the Imperium's notice before the Tau usurpation. It's likely the cult was already there when the Tau came, and probably adjusted their plans accordingly."

"And the Tau being ignorant little fools…" Xanthis began. "…the xenos probably didn't notice as the cult began to extend its influence in the aftermath?"

"Probably so…" Weiss agreed. "…and with so much of the Inquisition's assets spread thin due to the Tyranid incursions, the backwater nature of the world, and the Tau being the Ordo Xenos' responsibility, the Ordo Malleus probably missed it. We're not infallible after all, and when we make mistakes…"

The Inquisitor trailed off, not that her two acolytes needed it to be finished. They'd both been present when the Inquisitor along with several others had hunted down a radical member of their organization, who'd make an insane pact with the Dark Eldar and a daemonic power to hunt down an Ultramarine warband of all things. That it had ended in exterminatus and cost the lives of several billion Imperial citizens to resolve was proof enough that when the Inquisition made a mistake, the results could be catastrophic.

"What worries me is that the cult might have witches that could foresee the coming operation." Weiss said. "The xenos have a weak presence in the Warp, but you can always make up for a shortfall in quality with quantity. An entire reserve force devoured by the Warp, coupled with the souls of the Humans living on Tijuana, it just might be enough to drag the entire planet into the Warp as Brother Artaxerxes foresaw."

"A new daemon world will be born?" Xanthis murmured.

"Yes." Weiss said. "We can't let that happen. The Tau and the Tyranids are bad enough, so let's not add the Great Enemy to the list of enemies we already have to deal with in this sector."

She looked at her acolytes. "When the time comes…" she said. "…I'll have you work closely with the Thousand Sons. Especially you, Xanthis: your telepathic abilities will make you well-suited for working with the Thousand Sons and their Spireguard auxiliaries."

Xanthis nodded. "I understand, Inquisitor." He said, and Weiss nodded back.

* * *

Two Astartes strode down the corridors leading to the _Isometric_ 's astropathic choir. One might think that as a legion composed entirely of psykers the Thousand Sons would be more tolerant of their fellow psykers than other Imperial organizations. And they'd be right to an extent.

It was their Primarch Magnus the Red who had successfully argued for improved facilities aboard the black ships during the Great Crusade, which remains the case to the present day despite attempts by mono-dominants and other individuals to have his proposal repealed. Instead of simply holding psykers like cattle in psi-shielded bays, psykers were held in individual psi-shielded stasis pods, and while they remained sedated and sanctioned psykers maintained a disruption field over the holding areas, the adoption of the primarch's proposal had increased the survival rate and the number of sane and uncorrupted psykers to reach Terra, where their powers would be properly-honed in service to Mankind.

The planet Prospero, original homeworld of the Thousand Sons had in fact held a large psyker population, as did their current homeworld of Terathalion. Indeed, there were those who argued and still argue – probably correctly – that Magnus' efforts to make the black ships more humane was not simply out of common Humanity, but also as a service to those of his people who boarded the black ships.

But it was also because the Thousand Sons were all psykers – at least after the Rubric was cast, during the Great Crusade while the legion's senior officers were all psykers most of the rank-and-file held no psychic talent – that the legion was actually just as wary of psykers as the rest of the Imperium. The legion had seen all manner of consequences of psykers going rogue, driven insane or falling to Chaos during the Great Crusade, during the Roboutian Heresy, and in the millennia since. And of course there were the legion's renegades, hated and hunted down by the legion's brothers as a stain on their honour.

And finally, there was one of the XV Legion's greatest secrets, known only to a few outside the legion, and during the Great Crusade only to its upper hierarchy, as well as the leadership and select forces of the Prosperine Dominion at the time. When Magnus the Red had discovered the designs of the dark god Tzeentch for his legion, he had conducted a thorough sweep and purge of Prospero, and had in fact uncovered several fledgling cults of Tzeentch in its populace.

And not just its populace: as part of Magnus' directive, one amended after the casting of the Rubric and the establishment of the Archive of Shame, the archives and libraries of Prospero were swept clean of knowledge connected to Chaos, either destroyed or surrendered to the agents of Malcador the Sigillite.

These efforts were maintained throughout the Great Crusade, and were instrumental in keeping the worlds of the Prosperine Dominion – such that had survived the Space Wolves' rampage during and after the Burning of Prospero – free of the taint of Chaos during the dark years of the Roboutian Heresy.

It was for this reason that the _Isometric_ 's astropathic choir was kept isolated from the rest of the ship, as was the case in other vessels. The Thousand Sons were psykers too, but they were Astartes as well, and like the librarians of other legions could count on trans-Human willpower and much more soul-testing and soul-scouring training than other psykers in Imperial service. The development and adoption of psychic hoods was another factor, and finally, in the Thousand Sons' case, the Rubric also imparted significant protection of its own, not least of which was immunity to further mutation, if at great cost to the legion's legacy as a whole.

In contrast, soul-binding aside astropaths could only call on their own all-too Human willpower to protect themselves against the dangers of the Warp. As the ancient saying went, 'better safe than sorry'.

A full squad of Spireguard stood protectively around the entrance into the astropathic choir's chambers, encased in carapace armour and with hot-shot lasguns at the ready. Two of them carried flamers, and four other squads were less than a minute away, ready to scramble in case of containment breach.

The Spireguard saluted as the two Astartes approached, and then Cyril entered his command code into the security lock. The code was accepted, and then with the hiss of equalizing pressure and the sound of heavy bolts sliding back, huge armoured doors slid open.

Cyril and Constantine entered, passing down a corridor lined with doors leading into comfortable but simple accommodations, storage, and utility rooms, the armoured doors sealing behind them. The walls were all lined with thrice-blessed silver, forged into a hexagram pattern and fixed net-like on the walls. Finally they reached a round chamber, five astropaths rising and bowing as they approached.

"How may we be of assistance, Cabal Master Velarion?" the senior astropath asked. He was a tall man in his forties, robed in the white and green of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica, a green strip of cloth emblazoned with his institution's emblem tied around his head, and masking his empty eye sockets.

"I'll need to send a message to the Imperial expedition gathering at Gallus VI." Cyril replied. "I will need your assistance in this, in order to open and maintain an astropathic channel."

"Of course my lord." The man said with a bow. "However I must warn you of the risk of an astropathic channel, which comes with the improved reception and transmission rate."

"I am aware." Cyril said, and glanced at Constantine. "The champion here will provide protection, a fail-safe, and if necessary, do what must be done."

"Very well then my lord." The astropath said. Cyril nodded at the man, and as the astropaths moved into a pentagonal arrangement, Cyril took his place in the centre.

Constantine took a step back, and drawing his force sword held it up before him two-handed. He activated the psi-converter, and golden flames erupted along its edges. A member of the Pyrae cult, he was a capable telepath in his own right however, and he kept his telepathic senses attuned to the minds and souls of the psykers in front of him.

The astropaths began to chant their focusing mantras, staves raised towards the cabal master in the centre, the Enumerations echoing through the ether from his mind. A bluish glow surrounded the astropaths, merging with each other and washing over the cabal master, who floated gently into the air, his hands outstretched to either side, spheres of psychic energy pooling in his hands.

As an Athanean, the cabal master was significantly more powerful than most epistolaries of other legions, but to create and maintain an astropathic channel was difficult and dangerous. Usually this was done by full choirs on Imperial worlds, or large conclaves of legion librarians of other legions and multiple Thousand Sons cabals.

In this case however, the cabal master could only call on himself, and on five astropaths. Fortunately the destination was close by, and there were no vortices of Chaos nearby, at least none violent enough to breach into real space. Hopefully that would be enough.

It would be nearly twelve hours later that Cyril floated down to stand on his own feet again. The glow vanished, the astropaths weakly falling into the cushions and seats in the choir chamber. Constantine made a sweep, and deactivating his sword sheathed it. "How did the matter go?" he asked.

"I've informed our allies." Cyril said. "They've confirmed, and will be sending us an amended copy – in light of our activities – of the strategic plan they'll be using."

"So how big a force will it be?"

"The fleet's almost ready." Cyril said, leading the way out of the choir chambers, leaving the astropaths behind to rest and recover. "One Emperor Class, six Overlord Classes, ten Lunar Classes, and eighteen Dictator Classes: those are all the capital ships involved in the operation. Over a hundred escorts of the Sword and Cobra Classes will be involved."

"And our cousins…?"

Cyril smiled. "It seems the LV Chapter of the VIII Legion will be deploying in full with the fleet." He said, and Constantine laughed.

"A full chapter of the Night Lords…?" he said as they left the choir chambers, armoured doors sealing behind them. "I might pity the Tau, except they don't really deserve it, do they?"

"True." Cyril said with a laugh of his own. "However the fleet's still gathering. The capitals are all present, but many of the escorts are not, along with a significant portion of the Imperial Guard elements. The Warp being the Warp, it'll take time for them to reach the assembly area."

"We have some time to finish things, eh?" Constantine asked. "If we do root out this cult before the campaign begins, then what?"

"Obviously we join them." Cyril said. "Normally our legion would only join truly critical campaigns due to our limited numbers, but we can hardly turn our backs on our allies in this situation."

Constantine laughed again. "I prefer a fair fight anyway." He said. "Though even then, against us not much is fair, is it?"

"No, it is not."

* * *

A/N

Red Server: you might get disappointed then. The Tau are in for a bruising.


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer 40,000 it is owned by Games Workshop.

Disclaimer: _The Roboutian Heresy_ is a FanFiction penned by Zahariel. I have received permission from him to set this piece within the universe of _The Roboutian Heresy_.

Blood of Ignorance

Chapter 2

The Fire Caste commander warily looked at the tactical displays, Gue'vesa operators and overseers bustling with their duties in the orbital's command centre. Tijuana – as the gue'la called it, and in deference to the majority gue'la population the Tau stationed and living on the world called it as such – had two, both armed with powerful ion cannons. Not enough to fend off a determined attack, much less a full enemy fleet, but then again Tijuana was simply not important enough to warrant more dedicated defences.

And in any case, against pirates or raiders, they were more than enough, and they could count on the Barracuda and Mantas stationed on the orbital docks. Between them, they could fend off more powerful forces, though against large fleets they would still be helpless.

All that could be done about those was hope the planet's obscurity would be enough to keep it out of sight. And if not, then the Fire Caste would just have to make the enemy pay as much as possible to gain control of orbit, and descending to the surface hold out long enough for reinforcements to arrive.

Again, Tijuana was not important enough to warrant more dedicated defences.

The newly-arrived force was certainly more than what the orbital defences could handle. Starlight and sunlight gleamed off pristine white psycho-plastic hulls, while solar sails glowed gold, basking in the cosmic light. Two Eldar cruisers were present, along with twelve smaller escorts.

The commander of the orbital and his fellow Tau knew of the Eldar of course. An ancient race with many similarities – and according to Earth Caste scientists may in fact be related to – the gue'la, the difference largely superficial apart from the Eldar's fully-realized psychic potential, and divided into two factions: the first travelled the stars in mighty world-ships, uncaring of and avoiding contact with other races save when it suited their interests, and the second who lived in a different realm that may be connected with the vash'aun'an, or as the gue'la called it the Warp, pirates, raiders and slavers that preyed on species across the length and breadth of the galaxy.

The Tau had had few contacts with either category, but the Craftworld Eldar, while exasperatingly-arrogant and condescending, unwilling to even consider the possibilities and mutual benefit of cooperation and eventual integration with the Greater Good, were not anathema to the Tau, and potential yet remained for coexistence.

The less could be said for their piratical kin, the better. Thankfully however, the newly-arrived Eldar belonged to the Craftworld Eldar, and had arrived openly and without concealment, broadcasting a message of truce and asking to be allowed to speak with the Tau rulers of the world.

The governing council had briefly considered, and responded with an invitation for the Eldar delegates to come and speak with the Tau in peace. Even now shuttles bearing the Eldar leader, the 'farseer' and her companions, were bringing her down to speak with the governing council.

Privately, the orbital commander felt uneasy and dubious of the Eldar's intentions, considering they had come with warships. Had they truly come in peace, they would or should have done so appropriately.

But then again, this region of the galaxy was hardly peaceful. Orks and Tyranids as the gue'la called them wandered the stars, bringing death and destruction, and of course there was the on-going border conflict with the obtusely-obstinate gue'la Imperium.

No, the Eldar were probably just being prudent, cruising among the troubled stars.

Or perhaps, had they truly come in peace?

* * *

Farseer Macha strode down the aisle leading to the audience chamber where the representatives of the Tau rulers of this world were to meet with her. The two thousand-year old farseer wore the green and white of her craftworld, and her spirit stone glowed as it harmonized her psychic aura as it fed the runes and psychically-attuned gems of her rune armour. In her hands she held a singing spear, but she kept it inactive, bearing it not as a weapon, but as a staff of office…for now.

Behind her strode her warlocks, also in green and white, their rune armours complemented by ghosthelms the farseer had not worn to present a diplomatic face to the Tau. Unlike her they carried no weapon, be it witchblades or shuriken pistols as they customarily did, not that they truly needed them. As those who had once walked the Path of the Warrior and now walked the Path of the Seer, the only weapon they needed was their mind.

As the Eldar strode down the aisle, they subtly – so much so that few non-Eldar would have noticed – took in the sights. The building had once been the Governor's palace under the rule of the Anathema's empire, that much was evident from the architecture, though the décor had been changed since the Tau had taken the planet.

Pastel drapes now replaced either monochromatic or garish and over-embroidered ones as commonly-used by the Imperium, and the heavy, over-elaborate and inelegant mosaics, frescoes, sculptures and inscriptions favoured by the Imperium had been replaced with admittedly-elegant geometric patterns and designs. And yet, Macha found herself ever so slightly repulsed by them, and comparing them overall unfavourably to either the mon'keigh or the brutish Orks.

Somehow, the geometries of the Tau reminded her too much of the Necrons, mechanical, soulless and lifeless. Ironically, the brutish architecture of the Orks or the primitive inelegance of the mon'keigh Imperium had more life in them that those of the Tau.

Finally she and her warlocks reached where four Tau representatives were waiting for them, and Macha gave the slightest of bows, one that conveyed both respect and contempt at the same time, and her warlocks not at all. It was enough to convey gratitude for the Tau's hospitality, while at the same time stressing the superiority of the Eldar race and civilization alike.

Superiors do not submit to inferiors. Even the mon'keigh understood that, even if they challenged it regardless, seeking to take what was not theirs.

"Greetings and welcome, Eldar," one of the Tau said, the leader judging by his central position. "I am the Por'el Krin'vren, representing the governing council of this world, in the name of the Tau'va."

"We thank you for the welcome, Por'el." Macha replied, speaking in High Gothic. Using such a primitive tongue was a personal insult to her, but the Tau tongue was even more primitive, and it was laughable to even consider that the Tau could speak the high and noble language of the Eldar race.

And besides, the Tau had also used High Gothic. No matter how one felt about the matter, the sheer size of the mon'keigh Imperium meant that its language – the common one considering the billions of dialects of Low Gothic – was a common diplomatic language between the major races of the galaxy.

"I am Farseer Macha of the Biel-Tan Craftworld," Macha said. "And I have come to bring you a warning, and a choice. And choice is the greatest gift in the galaxy, for only in choice does freedom truly exist."

Macha felt confusion and apprehension echo from the Tau animals' auras at her words. "A warning you say?" Krin'vren replied. "Of what, Eldar…?"

Macha knew of the growing strength of the mon'keigh in the adjacent sector, had foreseen their plan to reclaim their worlds, and even seen the sons of the Redeemed King moving through the shadows, paving the way for their fellow Humans. Soon, the ships of Imperium would forge their way through the Sea of Dreams, bringing war and destruction with them.

But she had no intention of warning the Tau of the mon'keigh's wrath. If anything that would prove counterproductive, for in case of failure the mon'keigh would serve as a better cat's paw against the forces of the Primordial Annihilator than the Tau. The Imperial Inquisition at least could be counted upon to act with due caution.

Heavy-handed, yes, brutish and excessive, but it was better than simply sticking their heads in the sand as the Tau would be wont to do when faced with something they had no means to comprehend. She had foreseen it.

This world's damnation would come from their ignorance.

And ignorant they would remain, for at no point in the ever-shifting threads of the future-present would the Tau gain the ability to touch and harness the power of the Sea of Dreams. On one hand this would keep them free – to an extent – of its taint, but on the other hand it kept them from truly learning of it, and thus unable to provide real opposition to the Primordial Annihilator.

"A great threat slumbers in your midst," Macha said. "Even now it spreads poison through the people of this world, and in time shall bring forth an evil which you cannot comprehend. This world will die, it's people consumed in a vortex of madness, and none can escape it. Those who die at evil's coming shall be consumed by an even greater evil, and those who live shall revel in what is to come, and so damn their souls as utterly as those who died."

Krin'vren looked sceptical. "Those words are vague and ill-defined farseer." He said. "I understand that you would not come in jest, but something more definitive would be appreciated, if we are to comprehend your warnings."

 _Primitives_

Macha internalized her contempt, and raised a hand. In it she projected an image of four symbols superimposed over an eight-pointed star: the Mark of Chaos Undivided, and the Marks respectively of the Lord of Skulls, He-Who-Changes, the Plaguefather, and She-Who-Thirsts.

"Behold," Macha said. "The emblems of the slumbering evil, which shall damn your world and all who dwell upon, lest you take heed and choose rightly."

And judging from the surprised exclamations and reactions of the four they recognized the symbols. "So," she said. "You recognize these, do you not?"

"Indeed we do." Krin'vren replied, incredulity obvious in his voice and on his face. "But surely you are mistaken farseer. The Fourfold Ideal is by no means a malignant force, if anything it undoubtedly advances cooperation between all peaceful beings and the Greater Good."

It was as Macha feared, and had foreseen. Chaos had taken root in this world, and cloaking itself in a benevolent guise by borrowing or supporting – on the surface – the Tau's 'Greater Good' it was now steadily gaining ground for the terrible finale.

"…honourable dealings with others," Krin'vren was saying. "Innovation in the hope of a better, brighter tomorrow for all, respect for life in all its forms, and a joyful and cultured life…"

Macha knew that it was too late. As the Tau spouted forth the tenets of the Fourfold Ideal, she saw only the dark gods in benign guises, cloaking the malignancy and corruption that was their true nature until it was too late.

She reached out with her mind, and found no trace of the corruption of Chaos within the Tau before her. This was puzzling, as even with their weak Warp signatures the Tau were by no means immune to its corruption.

 _Ah, of course, that was it._

She reached out with her mind further, and perceived festering pools of befouled Warp signatures over the city, and as she shied away from them, slamming shut the doors to her soul as forbidden songs and temptations were whispered through the ether. The Tau weren't corrupt, at least not their leaders. No corruption was present within the building, or in the surrounding district, which housed the Tau leaders and their families.

As far as they were concerned, the Fourfold Ideal was a local Human perspective of the Greater Good, one tolerated in that it swayed the Humans of this world, many of whom still worshipped their Emperor on distant Terra, to the Greater Good. They knew not it was just a façade, a means to divert attention, until it was too late to take action, and this world burned to the laughter of the dark gods.

"Very well," Macha said as the Tau finished speaking. "If you persist in allowing the enemy to cloud your judgment, then that is your business. But even if the warning is ignored, it has been delivered, and now a choice must be made."

"Choice, Eldar…?"

"Indeed," Macha said, staring into the Tau's eyes but keeping her spirit in check, lest she crush his pathetic mind with the intensity of her sight. "We will not allow the enemy to gain a foothold in this realm, not when we have the means to prevent it. Choose: excise the festering sores of the enemy, the so-called Fourfold Ideal, with your own hands, or we will do it for you."

The Tau set his face, and drew himself up. "We do not answer to your kind, Eldar." Krin'vren said sternly. "And we will not be dictated to nor be threatened into dancing to your tune."

"I seek neither," Macha said. "I gave a warning, a choice, and would now hear you answer."

"Your audacity is astounding." Krin'vren said. "We welcome you to our world with open hands outstretched in friendship, and you respond by levelling unjust accusations against our subjects and offer veiled threats in the form of warnings and choices."

Macha stayed silent, and at length the Tau sighed and shook his head. "We will perform as the Greater Good demands." Krin'vren replied.

"The choice is made." Macha said, and without another word or gesture turned to leave. As she strode away, the Water Caste Tau gave a warning of his own.

"Should you force our hand, Eldar," he said. "The Fire Caste will defend this world as is their duty."

Macha paused, and without as much as a glance or a tilt of her head, responded.

"So be it."

* * *

Macha and her warlocks watched on a display Tijuana as they left it behind them. "Farseer," Folre, the eldest of the warlocks present, said. "What shall we do now?"

"As I told the Tau," Macha replied. "We shall do what we must to keep the Great Enemy from gaining a foothold within this realm. And we shall."

"They will be expecting us."

"Indeed," Macha agreed. "But they will be expecting the obvious, the straightforward and the simple. But we shall move in the shadows, striking with a thousand different blades of death. We shall excise the taint of Chaos from this world, and though they know it not nor will they ever they shall owe their salvation to us."

Macha paused and glanced at one of the younger warlocks. "This sits ill with you, Illyrana?" she asked.

"Forgive me honoured farseer," the warlock said. "I understand we fight against the enemy, not to save these primitives, but I find the idea of saving – even by coincidence – such primitives to be below our kind."

"Indeed," Macha agreed. "But, as you yourself said, it is a coincidence. That is all."

"I understand farseer."

Macha nodded. At a thought her runes rose up into the air from the slender and sloping table before her, flying along seemingly-random patterns before her. "We shall depart, or give the appearance of such." She said. "Let them direct their gaze warily outward if they so wish. It matters not, for it will not matter in the end."

The image of the planet vanished, and the warlocks began to chant. Their voices blended as one into the background, subtle differences between the warlocks providing a symphony that harmonized with the farseer's own psychic signature, anchoring her as explored the snaking threads of the future-present.

Macha watched the runes fly smoothly through the air, the patterns guiding her mind along the proper path to be followed, to the foreseen triumph. But then new runes rose up into the air, from the inert set which lay on the wraithbone table, which had indicated variables previously unknown and uninvolved, but were now coming to play.

Macha narrowed her eyes as the runes of the trickster and the crone flew into positions that indicated their influence over the entire set of the future-present, and by the configuration of the runes perceived that the future or certain elements were now veiled. Whether it was by the enemy or some other factor remained unknown.

But there was more, and Macha worriedly watched as the runes which symbolized the Redeemed King's sons joined by those of the Slumbering King in Crimson. More than that, it wasn't just a possibility as in the case of the former, but near-certainty.

 _Nothing is certain, for the future-present shifts ever with every passing moment of time._

This was at once welcome and unwelcome. On one hand, the Thousand Sons were opposed to the enemy even more than most of their kin, likely connected to the great hatred borne for them by He-Who-Changes. They were also powerful psykers, easily the match of her people loath as she was to admit it, tempered and guided by cautious but great intellect. Against the enemy, they could be a useful ally.

But on the other hand, the mon'keigh were not exactly fond of her people either, the Space Marines least of all. Apart from their misguided hatred for all not of the kind, there was also their ill-earned resentment against what they perceived as the arrogance of her kind, when it was only right and just for the superior race to _be_ superior.

More than that, however, was the Thousand Sons' role as their Imperium's agents in the war of fate. Just as the farseers sought to do for their people, so too did the Thousand Sons seek to unravel the mysteries of the future-present, and shift the threads of fate in _their_ people's favour.

This gave them an understanding of her people's motivations better than most, but it also meant they were more aware of how much the farseers' triumphs' cost was paid for in Human blood. Needless to say, the Thousand Sons would not and were not pleased with this, though in reverse the efforts of the Anathema's sorcerers had also reaped their toll in Eldar life and blood.

Macha knew it well. One of her past mentors, Farseer Elnaril Naeris had perished by the hands of one of the flame-masters of the Thousand Sons, the mortally-wounded Space Marine spitefully immolating his very soul to unleash a storm of psychic flame that did likewise to the farseer and his warlocks. Only Macha's distance had saved her life, and she had spent many cycles in one of Biel-Tan's Houses of Healing to recover afterwards.

Those closer were not merely slain or injured, but had their very souls immolated, their spirit stones providing no protection against soul-fuelled fires of one re-forged mind, body, and soul in the image and genetic legacy of one of the Anathema's sons. That She-Who-Is-Not-Named was unable to consume their souls was cold comfort.

And there was when the Thousand Sons had foiled an attempt by the Eldar to divert a Tyranid fleet to their worlds, and nearly led to a precious Maiden World being consumed by the Great Devourer. Only great sacrifice on the part of Biel-Tan and several other craftworlds had saved Dalyor'valra from the jaws of the Great Devourer.

Macha closed her eyes, allowing her mind to sink into the soothing background of psychically-empowered chanting, her emotions against the wrongs committed to her people ebbing away, and allowing her to think rationally. Loath as she was to admit it, the mon'keigh and the sons of the King in Crimson were only doing as the Eldar would in their place.

Impudent it was for lesser beings such as the mon'keigh, but in a galaxy with greater enemies to face, generally-speaking it was better to simply tolerate such impudence. It certainly could not be denied that mon'keigh were better neighbours to have than others, such as the Orks or the Necrons to name the worst, and at times the mon'keigh proved to possess spirit and potential to be valued.

Macha opened her eyes, and viewed the runes spiralling in front of her. The future-present opened in her mind, and she followed the threads of fate that led to her desired future. In many of them the Thousand Sons figured prominently, at times friend, at times foe, and at times both or neither.

And through it all, the runes of the trickster god and the crone positioned to shroud much of what was to come weighed heavily over the farseer.

* * *

"The Eldar will return." Aun'Vre Bra'fin, governor of the world of Tijuana said. "Whatever madness has struck their farseer from foolishly gazing into the forbidden realm, it is unlikely they would give up on their mad purpose on our world."

The Ethereal turned to Shas'O Har'rax, who commanded the Tau forces on the planet. "However," he said. "They will not do so in an obvious fashion. They will seek to do so while cloaked in shadows and deceit, and strike unexpectedly with speed and determination to deliver a devastating blow."

The Tau commander nodded slowly. "That will give them the advantage of the initiative." He said. "However, through proper application of the Kauyon, I will show them the folly of daring to challenge the Tau'va, and on one such world that has embraced it so eagerly."

"I will entrust the matter of defence to you then, commandr." the Ethereal said. "I trust I will not be disappointed."

"I will make every effort to be worthy of your trust, revered Ethereal." Har'rax said with a small bow. "Though,"

"Something troubles you, commander?"

"The reports of the gue'la gathering strength in nearby star systems, to invade and seize these worlds once more, could they be connected?"

"Hmm," the Ethereal mused. "It is possible, but unless we have more proof it would be wiser to focus on the problem at hand."

"As you say," the commander said with another bow. The Ethereal then glanced at Krin'vren, who looked as though he wanted to say something.

"You wish to say something?"

"Yes revered Ethereal." Krin'vren said. "I would think that there is nothing more than coincidence between the actions of the Eldar coinciding with those of the gue'la. Like so many races opposed or ignorant to the Tau'va, the gue'la Imperium and the star-borne Eldar stand in opposition to each other and to my knowledge have waged many wars against each other in the past, though never on a large-scale. Only in the face of a common foe would they unite."

"If that is the case then would they not possibly do so against us here?" Har'rax asked. "The gue'la Imperium also delves in the forbidden realm which they call the Warp, and see foes where they do not exist as the Eldar do."

"That may be so." Krin'vren said. "However, according to our superiors the impending invasion by the gue'la Imperium is aimed as a general offensive against our worlds in this region of the galaxy. Even if they are in league with the Eldar, they can ill-afford to concentrate all their forces at anything less than at a decisive location."

Har'rax nodded. "That is certainly true." He said. "Though speaking of which, how is the greater empire planning to meet the gue'la invaders?"

"Reinforcements are being mustered further in our territory as we speak," Krin'vren replied. "However pressing needs elsewhere, in particular against the Y'he, and the limitations of our FTL technology, means that reinforcements will somewhat be delayed. It is likely our fleet in this region will be hard-pressed against the gue'la."

"I suspected as much." Har'rax said. "Still, if the gue'la invaders believe they can simply take worlds from the Tau'va and drag them back into barbarity, then they will be sadly mistaken. This world, and all worlds under the Tau'va in this region of the stars, belong to the Tau'va, and will remain so regardless of the ambitions of the selfish, the petty, and the mad!"

Bra'fin nodded his agreement, the Ethereal turning to look at the Fire Caste commander. "Well said, commander." He said. "With such spirit, I do not think there is any reason to doubt in our ultimate triumph. But while I have no doubt your fellow Fire Caste warriors share your spirit and your faith in the triumph of all that is right and just, I cannot help but doubt some of our gue'vesa troopers. Many of them are former Imperial Guardsmen, pressed into our service out of need, and most still have families and friends who have yet to embrace the Greater Good."

"I understand your concerns, revered Ethereal." The commander said. "And I will make every effort to ensure they will be met. But perhaps the coming battle against the gue'la will serve us well in that regard."

"How so…?" the Ethereal asked.

"If we can demonstrate by our victory the superiority and justness of the Greater Good," Har'rax said. "Then it will serve as further justification and incentive for those who cling to their past beliefs to abandon them for the enlightenment of the Greater Good."

Bra'fin nodded slowly. "Yes," he said. "Yes, that is a compelling argument. Very well, over the matter of the gue'vesa's loyalty and dedication I will once again entrust the matter to you. Are there any other matters to discuss?"

"Perhaps we ought to warn the Fourfold Ideal's members and community leaders?" a Water Caste asked. "It will better allow them to safeguard themselves against the Eldar's madness, and if they coordinate with local enforcers and warriors, it stands to reason that it will considerably aid our efforts against the Eldar."

Again the Ethereal nodded. "An excellent idea," he said. "Considering all the contributions they have made to integrate this world to the Tau'va, to say nothing of our responsibilities even otherwise, it is only right to warn them. I will invite their community leaders to speak with me in person, so that I may warn them of the Eldar threat. From there, coordination of common efforts for common interest may proceed to be discussed and developed."

The Ethereal's words were met with nods, and he nodded as well. "Very well," he said. "If there is nothing more, then this meeting is adjourned."

* * *

A/N

Eldar diplomacy is such an oxymoron. Though I suppose it could be considered as a subtler version of the Imperium's gunboat diplomacy, only without a huge fleet hanging around or outside the system (at least not obviously) to underline the Imperium's interests.

Eldar will be Eldar, not really all too different from Humans in seeing themselves as superior to every other race out there. There's some justification for it yes, arguably more than the Imperium or Humanity, but still. The Not So Different trope is in effect.

Redeemed King: Konrad Curze

The (slumbering) King in Crimson: Magnus the Red

Tau'va: Greater Good

Y'he: Tyranids


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer 40,000 it is owned by Games Workshop.

Disclaimer: _The Roboutian Heresy_ is a FanFiction penned by Zahariel. I have received permission from him to set this piece within the universe of _The Roboutian Heresy_.

Blood of Ignorance

Chapter 3

An operator held up a picture for his fellow operator to see. On the picture there was a smiling woman in a smock on a hospital bed, holding a pair of swaddled babies in her arms. "Wow," the other operator said. "Twins, congratulations man…! You're a father now."

"Yeah, and thanks." The man with the picture said as he tucked it back into his pocket. "But I won't really feel like it until I hold them in my arms. Ah, I can't wait to finish my posting here and get back home to Tijuana."

The other operator laughed and patted him sympathetically on his back. "Yeah I get what you mean." He said. "Just hang in there it's only a few more months and…"

The man's words were cut off as alarms suddenly screamed in the space station's control centre. At once everyone rushed back to stations, the Earth Caste overseer shouting orders. Back when Tijuana had belonged to the Imperium, tech-priests had overseen the space station from which fuel collection was conducted over the system's gas giant, but when the Tau took over, their role had been supplanted by the Earth Caste.

In some ways it was better, the Tau for one were more attentive to personal comforts and similar ideas than the Mechanicum's tech-priests were, but it was still uncomfortable if not difficult – or outright intolerable for some – to work under the direction of xenos. Many had been replaced, with Earth or Air Caste workers, though most of the space station staff and the crews of the tankers which brought the collected fuel to Tijuana were Human. Even so, there was still ample discomfort for the Humans present over the Tau.

Now however, all that was forgotten as the alarms screamed and crew rushed to stations. After all, if the newcomers were hostile, the space station was undefended. A Tau relay station was nearby, also in orbit over the gas giant, but the stationed Orca was out on patrol and the relay station lacked any offensive weapons of its own.

"Multiple unidentified vessels closing from…from the planet's direction." one operator reported and his voice heavy with controlled panic. "They appear to be on a flyby course, but still their speed is…!"

"Send out a warning! And contact Tijuana and inform them of the situation!"

"Yes. This is Tijuana Fuel Collection Centre Control: to approaching vessels, identify yourselves and slow to cruising speed. I repeat this is Tijuana Fuel Collection Centre Control: to approaching vessels, identify yourselves and slow to cruising speed. I repeat: This is Tijuana Fuel Collection Centre Control: to approaching vessels, identify yourselves and slow to cruising speed. I repeat…"

"It's no good!" the operator manning the communications console shouted. "We're being jammed!"

"W-w-what?" the Earth Caste overseer stammered out. "But this is, we are, this is a civilian facility. Why would…?"

He was still stammering when the first torpedoes slammed into the space station. Shields meant to keep out radiation and debris didn't even register the sleek projectiles, which ripped through the outer hull and into the critical pressure hull inside before exploding, sending corpses, thrashing bodies, debris, and burning air erupting into space.

Secondary explosions rippled across the space station as volatile plasma erupted from damaged power conduits, the prelude for an even bigger explosion as collected fuel ignited and blew the space station apart. Solar sails flashing as they sailed in the sunlight, the two Eldar Dragonships and their Shadowhunter escorts gracefully flew past, having 'dived' into the gas giant's upper atmosphere to get to firing range undetected, and fired torpedoes even as they burst out of the clouds.

Other Shadowhunters flew rings around the Tau relay station, hammering at it with their weapon batteries. Laser blasts collapsed the shields before pummelling the station, its armour collapsing under sheer weight of fire and allowing the laser fire from the Eldar ships to gut the station.

Burning gusts of escaping atmosphere belched from the wrecked station, its orbit beginning to decay as the Shadowhunters soared away like a school of brightly-coloured fish. Only instead of re-joining their fellow Eldar, this squadron of escorts followed a different course, off to hunt the sole Orca in-system.

The Swordwind had been drawn.

* * *

The wraithbone doors silently slid open, iris-like, allowing the shipmaster to enter. He bowed in respect, Macha returning the gesture from where she was seated on her knees on the floor. In front of her, wraithbone runes continued to fly slowly and elegantly through the air over a low table.

"The mon'keigh space station and the Tau relay station have been destroyed, honoured farseer." Shipmaster Camriel of the _Eternal Wind_ said. "Furthermore, Shipmaster Laureal and his squadron are in the midst of hunting down the Tau's sole warship in the system."

Macha nodded and then tilted her head. "Well done shipmaster," she said. "But you did not come visit me to simply report this in person. Speak what is on your mind, my kin."

Camriel hesitated, and then nodded. "Honoured farseer," he began. "I must express my concern at your decision not to have our ships in system lie in wait for the mon'keigh. Would not their presence prove detrimental to our efforts against the Primordial Annihilator in this system?"

"I understand your concerns, shipmaster." Macha said with a nod. "And indeed, in many threads of fate, the mon'keigh's interference led to failure in this system."

Camriel stayed silent, but lowered his face ever so slightly. "However," Macha continued. "In just as many threads wherein we succeed do we cooperate or at the very least avoid hostilities with the mon'keigh."

"Furthermore," she paused as she gestured, pointing at the rune of the Slumbering King in Crimson. Camriel had walked the Path of the Seer before, more than once in fact, and he recognized the rune in but a moment. "Failure exists less in threads wherein the Anathema's descendants take part. And also,"

Macha paused again, and briefly closed her eyes. "Casualties are inevitable." She said. "I would reduce them if I could, and so I must choose the threads of fate that lead to success at the least possible cost to our people."

Camriel nodded in understanding. All Eldar could. As bitter as the thought of fighting alongside or even _tolerating_ mon'keigh was, if it led to success with the least possible precious Eldar lives lost, then it would and must be swallowed.

"I understand honoured farseer." He said. "However I would suggest that while we would neither intercept nor engage the mon'keigh as they emerge from the Sea of Dreams, we should at the very least keep an eye on them."

Macha considered for the moment, past experience of wars and other dealings with the mon'keigh weighing with the threads shown by the runes. After several moments she nodded. "Yes," she said. "We should keep an eye on the mon'keigh. It would allow us more flexibility in dealing with things as they develop."

Macha raised her face and locked eyes with the shipmaster. "However," she said. "We must not provoke the mon'keigh in any way. That is my condition for allowing this."

The shipmaster nodded. "I understand, honoured farseer." He said. "I will consider that matter upon the mon'keigh's coming."

Macha nodded. The shipmaster bowed and left, while the farseer returned to her runes. After a moment, she lifted her head and glanced at the eldest of her warlocks present. "Maelor," she said. "You have a concern?"

"You did not inform the shipmaster of the runes being obscured."

"Indeed I did not." Macha admitted. "There is no need to unnecessarily concern him, is there?"

"Indeed there is none, honoured farseer."

Macha nodded, and once more returned to her runes.

* * *

"What?" Shas'O Har'rax said. "We've lost contact with the outer system. Has this been confirmed?"

The commander's subordinate nodded. Unlike with the orbitals, everyone in the Planetary Defence Command Centre was a Tau, all from the Fire Caste. "It's been six cycles since contact's been lost. Furthermore, no abnormal solar or cosmic activity has been detected by the Earth Caste. Therefore, as per standard procedure, I've dispatched a fast cutter to recon the outer system, specifically the gas collection facilities and the relay station. In the meantime we're attempting to restore communications, as the possibility remains that this could all be just the result of technical difficulties."

Har'rax hummed unhappily for a moment before nodding. "It is possible I'll admit, Shas'la." He said. "However the patrol, the gas collection facilities, and the relay station going dark all at the same time? That strikes me as rather suspicious."

"Then…?"

"It's likely the Eldar." Har'rax said darkly. "It fits with what we know of their combat doctrines. It is difficult to admit, but the Eldar unlike the gue'la have a mastery of the kau'yon and the mont'ka rivalling our own. Not for them the brutish, frontal attacks of the gue'la or the Orks or even the Y'he, mindlessly drowning their enemies with their own corpses."

Har'rax shook his head. "No," he said. "They will strike from the shadows, at our flanks and rear, aiming not to achieve victory in one blow but to sap our strength and our resolve, to throw us into panic, and so draw us into where they may deliver the killing blow."

Har'rax glanced at his subordinate. "It goes without saying I have no intent of falling into their trap Shas'la." He said.

The other Tau nodded. "However," he said. "Though it might seem presumptuous of me…"

"Speak what's on your mind, Fire Warrior." Har'rax said with a reassuring smile. "A true warrior never need fear reasoned exchange. The fresh perceptions of the young may see that which an older, set mind may not, while the wisdom of the older will only serve to guide the younger."

"Yes commander." The Shas'la said. "However considering the number of Eldar ships that arrived recently, would we not be at a disadvantage?"

"We certainly cannot contest control of space for long that is true." Har'rax said. "We'll make them pay for it, but the outcome will be decided here on the surface."

"We will be outnumbered will we not, commander?"

"Indeed," the commander said with a nod. "We cannot hope to deliver the mont'ka by ourselves. Instead, with proper application of the kau'yon, we will deny the Eldar decisive battle, contest what mad purpose they may have on this world, and buy time for the empire to send reinforcements."

"Then…?"

Har'rax nodded. "If the Eldar are behind the communication disruption," he said. "It is only a matter of time before the silence leads our superiors to determine our situation, and proceed as per standard procedure. And then…"

Har'rax paused and smiled wolfishly. "Once the fleet arrives, we can attack the Eldar from the front and back, and deliver the mont'ka." He finished.

The Shas'la immediately drew himself up and saluted. "Sir!" he said. "I apologize for having wavered in my faith in the triumph of the Greater Good."

"It is of no great import, Shas'la." Har'rax said. "You are young, and it is to be expected that you resolve will be tested. There is no shame in wavering, and by overcoming such tests will your resolve be made all the greater in the end."

"Sir, I am thankful for your words, and will meditate upon them upon the completion of my duties."

Har'rax nodded, and dismissed the Shas'la. The moment the younger Tau had left, and his expression grew troubled.

He had said what he had needed to say, and bolstered his subordinates' resolve. He had answered their concerns, and shown them the way of the battles to come. If only it as simple as that for him, however.

After all, the gue'la forces were still massing in the adjacent region of space. And while their irrational hatred for all sapient life not of their kind should preclude any alliance (even one of convenience) between them and the Eldar (whose arrogance would have a similar effect), Har'rax had no doubt the Eldar could simply avoid the gue'la's brutish technology and strategies and instead take advantage of the chaos caused by the Imperial invasion to accomplish what mad goal they sought.

" _We have to finish dealing with the Eldar before the gue'la strike._ " Har'rax thought. " _We can't fight the Imperium and the Eldar at the same time. But to do that, I can only hope a reinforcement fleet is sent and arrives before the invasion begins._ "

Har'rax worriedly stroked his chin at yet another worrying consideration. Even should they manage to defeat the Eldar, if the Imperium struck while their forces were still recovering from the battle with the Eldar (at least in this system), then it was likely that it would give the gue'la Emperor's forces an overwhelming advantage.

" _The gue'la's combat doctrines and technologies might be brutish, not very much above those of the Orks,_ " the commander thought. " _But they are effective. And should they have the numbers, metal, and resolve to win…_ "

Har'rax sighed and directed his mind to more pertinent matters. " _There's nothing more I can do about that._ " He thought. " _I should focus my attention on problems I can find solutions for. Apart from placing all air defence assets on high alert, I'll need to increase pathfinder patrols, and organize rapid response teams. I could use more battlesuits, but I'll have to make do with mechanized Fire Warrior squads. Potentially anaemic against Eldar forces, but we'll have to make up for a shortfall in firepower with fighting spirit. We can't hope for more than this, and the reinforcement fleet._ "

Har'rax sighed. " _And,_ " he thought bitterly. " _Considering the value of this world, it's likely the fleet's role will only be to buy time for an evacuation of critical personnel and anyone else that can be evacuated on short notice. When all is said and done, this world's strategic value isn't particularly worth much._ "

* * *

Shas'ui Nar'us led her fellow pathfinders through the badlands, nimbly skipping over and past the broken rocks and yellow sands that surrounded the bleak peaks of the El Santa Clara mountains. It was a harsh place to live in, with only a bare few mountain streams for water (apart from the deep wells sunk by the few settlements in the region) while the arid clime and parched earth were unsuitable for agriculture of any form.

Indeed, if not for a major railway junction between two railways that crisscrossed the region through the outer third of the badlands, and a few mining settlements that dotted the foothills and slopes of the El Santa Clara, the region would be desolate save for the few flora and fauna that could survive the harsh climate. The small population – the rare earth deposits tapped were only ever so profitable and the junction town was largely populated by maintenance workers, their families, and those who supported them – of the region was such that only a small force of Gue'vesa militia were deemed sufficient to hold the region, along with Nar'us and two other pathfinder squads. They had some reconnaissance drones for long-range patrol duties, but no heavy weapons or vehicles.

There should have been no need for them.

And that was the whole damn point: there should have been no need for them. But anything that could take out (and would want to take out) reconnaissance drones over the past several days wasn't something to be sanguine over. Especially given the loss of contact – word had quietly spread among the ranks of the military and the higher ranks of the civilian leadership – a few days ago.

" _Is it the gue'la?_ " Nar'us thought as she cautiously took cover behind a boulder, and used her helmet's built-in sensor suite to sweep a shallow defile just past it. " _Or the Eldar? Probably the latter: the gue'la Imperium is much too brutish for something as subtle as this. Though it begs the question: what could the Eldar be after here?_ "

A scratching sound briefly startled her, but she quickly realized it was just her communication channel. "This is Squad Nar'us." She said. "Shas'ui Var'dis, what is it?"

There was no reply. "Shas'ui Var'dis, what's your status?" Nar'us asked. Again, there was no response, only dead utter silence over the channel. "Shas'ui Var'dis please respond. Var'dis, can you hear me? Are you there? Please respond!"

No reply. Nar'us began to grow worried, though like the professional she was she fought it down and rationalized the situation. It could just be interference, or possibly technical failure. Surely there was no need to assume the worst, was there?

 _It seems too much of a coincidence though, that I can't contact them_ _ **and**_ _their signal has vanished from the tactical display._

Nar'us switched channels to try and contact the other pathfinder squad, led by Shas'ui Wua'xo. "Shas'ui Wu…" she began only to break off at the sound of battle from the other side.

She could hear the high-pitched whine of burst carbines roaring away, the _panicked_ shouts of her fellow Tau, and most chillingly, the sound of fire cutting off one by one until there was only silence over the channel. At the same time, Squad Wua'xo vanished off the tactical display.

There could be no further doubt.

"Home One," she said, trying to reach their base. "This is Squad Nar'us. We have indications that Squads Wua'xo and Var'dis have been ambushed and lost to enemy forces. We will attempt to investigate and confirm, but I advise immediate defensive…"

Nar'us was no greenhorn. She'd fought no less than six major campaigns, five against the Orks and once against the Y'he, and had even participated in an abortive infiltration attempt against one of the Gue'la Fortress Planets that surrounded the so-called 'Ruinstorm'. She'd participated in countless lesser skirmishes too, and from her experiences she'd gained sharp discernment, perception, and sense for battle and death.

And that saved her life in the next moment. Moving by instinct, she moved her head by a small fraction, a hypersonic round that would have punched through her head instead shredding the antenna assembly mounted to the side. "SNIPER!" she shouted. "TAKE COVER!"

Veterans all, her squad followed her lead, taking cover behind boulders, trees, and anything that could cover them. Even then it wasn't enough. Fralux fell, his head erupting like a crushed fruit from a hypersonic round. Arish died when three hypersonic rounds punched through his torso armor, ripping through his body cavity and reducing internal organs to bloody mush.

"Photon grenades now!" Nar'us ordered. "It should buy us some time!"

Nar'us and her pathfinders detonated all their photon grenades at once, and it seemed to have succeeded. The sniper fire cut off at once, no doubt because the cowards had been blinded with the photon grenades' effects focused through their scope.

Making use of hand gestures – radio communications could be intercepted after all – Nar'us dispersed her squad and ordered them back to base.

It couldn't be doubted. Somehow, the Eldar had managed to deploy infiltrators on the planet's surface, probably while all eyes were focused on their 'delegation'.

 _Those pointy-eared gue'la lookalikes planned all this! They probably never expected us to come to terms! Damn them!_

Nar'us skid down a hillside, and taking a circuitous route entered a shadowed defile that led several kilometers further south. The shadows would help her camouflaged armored suit blend into the surroundings. She'd probably have to wait until night before attempting to make the cross-country trek from the defile's end back to base though.

 _I don't know what they plan to achieve with just infiltrators, though they're probably just an advance force for a much larger Eldar force on the way…_

Nar'us thoughts came to abrupt and painful halt as her knees and then her right elbow came apart in a shower of blue blood. Falling forward, she gasped and barely succeeded in rolling onto her back just in time to see a dark-cloaked figure clutching an elegant pistol in one hand, and a power sword in another. Nar'us' eyes widened as the figure raised his sword, and swung it down in a gleaming arc.

And then darkness fell.

* * *

Shas'el Miraish looked stonily at the tactical displays. Everything around him in the orbital control center was complete chaos. Fire, Earth, and Air Caste personnel, along with Gue'vesa milled about or busied themselves at the stations.

Both orbitals were on full alert, shields up, defense turrets active, and ion cannons primed. The orbital docks' own shields were up, and defense turrets active. Under the Imperium it had mounted macrocannon batteries for limited offensive capability, but those had been removed in preparation for replacement with more efficient railgun batteries. Unfortunately, replacement had been delayed by a variety of factors, in particular the incompatibility of Tau railgun batteries to the gue'la construction of the orbital docks.

They weren't without bite however. Already a squadron of Barracudas was out on patrol, and more could be launched within minutes' notice, along with Mantas for anti-ship roles. The Eldar might outnumber and possibly outgun them, but orbit would not be given up without a fight.

Right now though, Miraish felt utterly helpless, though he didn't let it show. He couldn't.

The tactical displays showed a picture of complete chaos. All around the planet law enforcement, civilian communications and transport hubs, financial centers, and even government buildings had been attacked with explosive results. Thankfully the key members of the planetary government had been evacuated to a secure location, and the military's precautions over the past days had deterred any attacks against them, but with their hands full containing the chaos hunting down the perpetrators – who were clearly too skilled for the matter to be entrusted to already-decimated law enforcement forces – would prove an impossible task…for the moment at least.

 _Justice_ _ **will**_ _be served, sooner or later._

Miraish shook his head in disbelief as the reports flooded in from the planet's surface. To think he had allowed Eldar infiltrators – there was simply no way the gue'la could have been behind this – to infiltrate unhindered. Considering what they knew of that ancient race, it was probably inevitable, but the shame remained and stung.

Miraish clenched his fists, the only visible sign he would show that the attacks had affected him. If the infiltrators thought their actions would allow them to smoothly pave the road for their invasion, then they were wrong. Between Har'rax on the surface and Miraish in orbit, they'd make the Eldar pay for every step they took on this world, every life they took be it gue'la or Tau, and see that justice be done in the end.

 _None can stand before the Greater Good._

* * *

Yltari was a ranger. He'd walked the Path of the Wanderer (which wasn't really a path per se) for several centuries, and seen much of the horrors and wonders the galaxy had to offer. He'd experienced much that he could never have had he remained on his home craftworld, and had fought and encountered many lesser races and the major players of the galaxy: the mon'keigh Imperium, the slaves of the Dark Gods, the heathen Orks, the Great Devourer and even once the Ancient Enemy, and more than a few times the Kin of Commoragh.

He had encountered the Tau only a few times in the past though, and this would be his first battle with them. He looked forward to the coming experience, and the Eldar grinned ferally. Perhaps it was his mother getting to him, though it had been centuries since he had last met her. She had since become one of the Exarchs of Khaine, and he knew not whether she still lived or had achieved a glorious death in battle against the enemies of the Children of Isha in the centuries since.

A matter for another time.

Yltari looked around the chosen site, nodding with satisfaction at the large-scale holo-field generators they'd deployed to mask the area. It rendered the site invisible to all but the sensors of their kin and most likely the Ancient Enemy – though there was little risk they would come here – and even to sharp Eldar eyes nothing could be seen of what lay within, until one passed the perimeter.

Located high on what the mon'keigh had called the 'El Santa Clara Mountains', the site overlooked a dry but broad river valley, offering relatively easy descent and ascent to the site. And any enemy would do so under fire: Yltari and his rangers had set up energy shields before predetermined sites, where Guardians would later deploy Shuriken Cannon, Brightlances, Scatter Lasers and missiles to rain death on any who would approach with hostile intent.

If any could find them, that is. If they couldn't detect their infiltration on the relatively-obvious Vampire Raiders, then they should have no chance detecting this site.

Yltari blinked and turned as another ranger approached him. Her name was Liriel, and she was young, barely two centuries old. Apparently she'd led a sheltered existence back on the craftworld, making her somewhat easy to lead around. She'd certainly shared his bed more than a few times, and probably would tonight, if circumstances permitted.

The needs of war came first, especially against the Primordial Annihilator.

"Is it done?" he asked.

Liriel nodded. "The Webway Portal is ready and active." She replied. "Khelgil has already sent the signal, and we've received word that our kin are due to arrive shortly."

Yltari nodded. "Very well," he said, leading the way back to the Webway Portal. "Let us go meet the honored farseer at her arrival."

Liriel nodded, falling into step behind Yltari as they made their way through site. They encountered several rangers along the way, and after exchanging nods most returned to their assigned tasks while a few fell into step with Liriel and Yltari. Finally, they reached the Webway Portal, the wraithbone frame a solid contrast to the water-like curtain that was the entry and exit point into the Webway.

Though the Eldar had lost the secret of building new (and permanent) Webway Gates and tunnels during the Fall, they still possessed the knowledge to build and use temporary tunnels and portals, though regrettably the craftworlds' skill in that matter were inferior to those of the Kin of Commoragh. More importantly, Yltari and his party's arrival was just in time, as just moments later the Webway rippled, and a tall, feminine and redheaded figure emerged from its depths, clad in the white and green armor of Biel-Tan.

Farseer Macha had come, and stepped forth onto Tijuana not as an envoy of peace, but as the bringer of war.

* * *

A/N

Personally I have mixed feeling on the Eldar. On one hand, they're elves, and I've a soft spot for elves (plus the whole dying race tragic aspect though I imagine being pitied by a _Human_ would be seen as an insult by Eldar in general). On the other hand, when they fight the Imperium they can be so damn _infuriating_.

With that said, I do enjoy having them brutalize the Tau. I really, REALLY, **REALLY** hate the space commies.

Beta'd by Zahariel, thanks, and thanks again for letting me set this in your ATL.


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer 40,000 it is owned by Games Workshop.

Disclaimer: _The Roboutian Heresy_ is a FanFiction penned by Zahariel. I have received permission from him to set this piece within the universe of _The Roboutian Heresy_.

Blood of Ignorance

Chapter 3

"Eldar?" Cyril echoed. "Biel-Tan?"

Artaxerxes nodded. "I have seen what I have seen." He said. "I've examined the visions thoroughly through the Enumerations, and I've even checked the Tarot. The vision is at least worthy of consideration."

"Hmm," Cyril hummed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well this certainly complicates things. Biel-Tan…the most warlike of all Craftworlds. It will be a problem if the whole warhost is at Tijuana."

The cabal master glanced at the Corvidae, who shook his head. "It doesn't seem as though the whole warhost will be there, but I am certain that a significant force, at least comparable to a Legiones Astartes Strike Force will be there." He said.

"So a few hundred Eldar or so," Cyril said thoughtfully. "Mostly Guardians, though since this is Biel-Tan we're talking about they'll probably have more Aspect Warriors than would be normally be expected. And that doesn't count heavy vehicles, though I think we can safely discount the Eldar bringing Titans along."

"I did not see any Titans in my vision." Artaxerxes said. "But even without that, I doubt if they'd bring them anyway, if their strike force is of relatively-small size."

Cyril nodded, and glanced at those of his brothers present, along with an acolyte representing their guests. Finally, he turned back to Artaxerxes. "What of the Eldar's fleet strength?" he asked.

"At least two Dragonships," the Corvidae replied. "Along with a number of Shadowhunters and a smaller number of Wraithships. Any more than that I could not see, or for that matter, what configuration the Biel-Tan will be using."

"The last would be asking too much even for the Corvidae, I would think." Constantine said.

"I agree." Cyril said, before nodding at the cabal's champion. "So, what do you think Constantine, of the Eldar's presence on that backwater world?"

"I think they're there for the same reason we are." Constantine replied. "Chaos."

"And?"

"I say we should keep our eyes open, and our backs guarded." The champion continued. "And that we should focus our attentions on the heretics. So long as the knife-ears don't raise a hand against us, then we should leave them be. Chaos is a far more pressing threat by comparison."

"And afterwards?" Illyrion asked.

"Afterwards will be a problem for afterwards." Constantine said. "We've all seen Artaxerxes' vision of what should happen if Chaos succeeds here. This might sound more than a little treasonous, but if suffering the xenos' presence on an Imperial world for a time is the price to pay to defeat the Forces of Chaos, then it's a price we must pay."

The Inquisitorial acolyte looked very uncomfortable at that, but most of the Astartes present were nodding with grim expressions on their faces. "I am in agreement." Cyril said. "It would only serve the Great Enemy's purposes if we expend our strength against the Eldar and exhaust ourselves in the process. Treasonous as it might be on principle, necessity dictates we must consider Chaos a common enemy to be prioritized at this time. We'll be careful for any tricks the Eldar might pull, but so long as they stand against them, we'll leave them be, at least until heresy is cleansed from Tijuana."

"They'll probably just leave afterwards, though." One of the younger Thousand Sons said. "Will we let them?"

"It's probably best to let them go." Artaxerxes opined. "They outnumber us in space, and while I do not fear death in battle if I had to die I would rather die with real meaning for the Emperor, and not for blind pride and principle."

"I understand." The young Thousand Son said with a bow. "I apologize for speaking out of turn."

"And," Constantine said with an expression of distaste on his face. "Depending on how the battle goes, we might have to fight side-by-side with those knife-ears. I don't like it, but if that's what it takes to stop the heretics and whatever it is they're up to, I'll do it. But if so, attacking those with whom we were alongside just a moment ago, is rather…dishonorable."

"The Eldar might not feel the same way." Cyril pointed out.

"If they strike first after we beat the heretics," Constantine said. "Then we'll finish the fight. But we shouldn't start it."

Cyril nodded and looked up at the holographic map of the sub-sector, icons indicating their forces forging their way through the Warp to Tijuana. "In addition to what I said earlier," he said. "If the Eldar simply decide to leave after the heretics are beaten, then we'll let them go. If they fought alongside us it'll be dishonorable to start hostilities on the spot. And even if we didn't, there's no point in fighting a battle that would cost us needlessly for nothing more than blind pride and principle. Lives are precious. They should not be spent foolishly, when they can be lived for the greater glory of the Emperor."

There were nods of assent at that. "Of course," Cyril said with narrowed eyes and a harsh smile. "If the Eldar start something, we'll finish it."

There were more nods at that. "Moving on," the cabal master said. "The Eldar and Chaos aside, there is the Tau to consider in further detail."

The cabal master paused to sweep the gathering again, before turning back to the holographic map. "Originally my strategy was to leave the pacification of Tijuana to the crusade as it swept through this region of space." He said. "In hindsight, that may not be so wise."

There were surprised sounds at this. "Depending on how deeply-rooted the cults are," the cabal master said. "We may have to sweep the planet ourselves for the lingering aftereffects of their influence, even after the cults themselves are destroyed. And even then, we may have to place this star system under quarantine, until the Ordo Hereticus can conduct a proper purity sweep."

Cyril paused to regard the gathering. "If so," he said. "We'll have to deal with the Tau presence on our own, or what's left of it, before the Ordo Hereticus arrives, to better ensure a good start to the purity sweep."

"In short," Illyrion said. "So the purity sweep can focus solely on the heretics and the unclean hidden among the populace, we'll rid the world of any potentially troublesome Tau before the witch-hunters arrive."

"That is so."

Illyrion nodded. "It's a good plan." He said. "We should adopt it."

There was general agreement at that. "Very good," Cyril said, adjusting the hologram controls to show an image of the Tijuana Star System. "According to Artaxerxes, the Tau in-system have already been cut off from the rest of their ilk in the sub-sector, with their communications relay in the outer system destroyed. Likewise, what heavy patrol forces they had, have also been destroyed by the Eldar."

"Sounds like the Eldar did a lot of our work for us." One Thousand Son said.

"But," Cyril said, homing in on the planet itself. "Tijuana's high orbit defenses remain intact: two Ion Cannon Orbitals, and apparently the Tau have stationed Barracuda and Manta squadrons on the orbital docks themselves."

"The Eldar must be using the Webway to go to and fro between the planet's surface and their fleet, and bypassing the high orbit defenses entirely." Illyrion said. "Sneaky bastards…"

"We'll take them out." Cyril said, smiling as eyes turned to him. "We'll make a high-speed approach through the outer system, and run silent across the inner system to Tijuana, using our telepathy and pyromancy to cloak ourselves as originally planned to Tau perceptions and sensors alike. And then…"

Cyril theatrically paused and chuckled. "Then," he continued. "We'll do as Space Marines are meant to do."

"Lightning blitz." Constantine said, before laughing and smiling himself. "Are we Space Marines or not?"

"Of course we are."

"That we are."

* * *

Ordo Xenos Inquisitor Weiss von Eiderzeit listened in her quarters aboard the _Isometric_ as her acolyte gave the report. Normally she'd have attended the cabal master's meeting herself, but she'd developed an issue with one of her augmetics, and had been in the Apothecarion with part of her head cut open at the time, forcing her to send an acolyte in her place.

"Hmm," the inquisitor mused as the report finished. "It's not a normally condonable action, but in this case I think Cabal Master Velarion is correct. We need to focus on the Great Enemy before the Eldar. But…"

"Can we really trust the Eldar not to strike at our backs while we're busy with the Great Enemy, inquisitor?" Xanthis asked.

"Indeed," Weiss said darkly and with a nod of agreement. "The Eldar are likely present to fight the Great Enemy, but depending on who is leading them…"

The inquisitor sighed and sat back, gingerly touching the bandages wrapped around her temples. "An Eldar who'll let their arrogance and disdain to get to their head is more likely to preemptively take action against us," she said. "Out of the belief that our efforts will do more harm than good."

The inquisitor paused and snorted. "The Eldar are among the oldest foes of the Great Enemy." She told her acolytes, sweeping them with her gaze. "That cannot be denied. However, it also cannot be denied that the Eldar arrogantly consider themselves the only ones truly able to oppose it, and no one else. Perhaps if they actually stopped and thought what might happen should we of the Inquisition among others ceased to oppose the Great Enemy…"

"Inquisitor…!"

Weiss smiled and held up a hand. "I am just pointing out a scenario." She said. "Let me finish."

The acolytes looked troubled, but did as asked. "As I was saying," the inquisitor continued. "If they actually stopped and thought what might happen should we of the Inquisition among others ceased to oppose the Great Enemy, then considering the limitations of their own kind even if we didn't support the Great Enemy but didn't oppose it either, what do you think would happen?"

"It'll be the end." Castella said softly.

"The Eldar cannot be do everything on their own, no matter how much they think they can." Weiss said. "Even we of the Inquisition understand our limitations, and even though we of the Ordo Xenos and our colleagues in the Ordo Hereticus provide plenty of support when needed to the Ordo Malleus, or even – as in this case – take on their duties when none of their agents are readily available, what we do is only enough to hold back the tide."

"For ten thousand years we have kept watch over the Imperium," Weiss continued. "We have exposed, rooted out, burned and stamped out heresy and deviancy, and yet the Great Enemy continues to extend its feelers out into the Emperor's realm."

Weiss sighed and rubbed her forehead. "If the Eldar have a fool at their head on Tijuana," she said. "We – and the Thousand Sons – will have to fight them and the Great Enemy at the same time. I shudder to think what might happen, when the Great Enemy comes against those who should oppose it and find them divided."

The acolytes were silent, and then Weiss sighed. "Well," she said. "I suppose there's also a chance the Eldar will have someone with a working head on their shoulders leading them. They'll probably avoid stepping on our toes, and if so, we should return the favor."

The acolytes nodded, and then the one who'd attended the meeting earlier spoke up. "Speaking of which," he began. "The cabal master would like to speak with you, inquisitor. He said he wanted to discuss matters pertaining to the Inquisition's obligation to the world of our destination after the cults and the Tau are cleansed from it, and making preparations thereof."

"I see." He said. "Well, I suppose I can't exactly refuse a request from a Thousand Sons Cabal Master in his own ship, can I now? And in any case, the request is a reasonable one. I'll make myself presentable, and then go see the cabal master."

"Yes, inquisitor."

* * *

Reality silently tore apart in wildly-contorting rifts of unreal light that shimmered in millions of colors that existed and did not exist in the universe, the light of distant stars passing close to the rifts changing as they did so, taking on a hostile and repugnant quality.

Mighty shapes heaved themselves out of the Warp rifts, Geller Fields flickering in translucent patterns as they maintained bubbles of reality around the great ships of the XV Legiones Astartes, protecting them and those aboard from the dangers of the Warp. Most of the ships were small, one-kilometer long _Cobra_ Class Destroyers, though the ship at the heart of the flotilla was larger, approximately four kilometers in length, the Legiones Astartes Strike Cruiser _Isometric_.

As the transition to real space was completed, the Warp rifts collapsed, the wounds in reality closing and starlight returning to normal. Geller Fields flickered out, the _Isometric_ and her escorts – fourteen _Cobras_ – reorienting themselves and reestablishing regular communications.

Well away from Thousand Sons' ships, a quartet of Eldar Shadowhunters leisurely coasted through open space, solar sails flickering from the distant light of the system's solar primary. On the command deck of the lead ship, Shipmaster Maelor looked at a holographic screen displaying the Thousand Sons ships in space.

"Inform the honored farseer," he commanded. "The mon'keigh have come. And as she foresaw, it is the sons of the King in Crimson."

"Understood, shipmaster." One of the bridge crew responded.

Maelor stepped back from the deck, looking on as the Thousand Sons stayed where they were, apparently unaware of their – Biel-Tan's – presence. Blinking once, he turned his head to one of his trusted officers, sensing the younger male's unease. "You have something on your mind, Aerion?" he asked.

"It is not my place to question the honored farseer's judgment." Aerion replied from his station on the command deck.

Maelor chuckled. "And yet you hold doubts?" he asked.

"So I do." Aerion said. "Despite what the honored farseer might say, I cannot bring myself to trust that the mon'keigh will not bring ruination, be it to their world or our efforts against the Primordial Annihilator, with them. It is what they do, crude and brutish as they are, barely more civilized than the Orks."

"Perhaps they are." Maelor agreed, but he didn't say anything for several moments afterwards. "But as crude and brutish as they are, at least they are not ignorant. The Tau on the other hand are ignorant fools, blind and unknowing of the truth of the cosmos."

Maelor paused, and turned to his subordinate. "I would sooner deal with learned barbarians than with ignorant fools." He said.

"I apologize for any offense caused, shipmaster." Aerion said with a humble bow.

Maelor nodded slowly before turning to look out from the command deck once more. "You didn't." he said. "But I understand how you feel. If you cannot trust in the mon'keigh, then at least trust in the honored farseer. It's what I do as well."

"I understand, and humbly accept your advice, shipmaster."

* * *

Gue'vesa operators sat at their stations in the orbital control center on Tijuana's orbital decks. The past couple of weeks had been rather trouble-filled, with plenty of terrorist attacks by the Eldar targeting the homes and properties of the followers of the Fourfold Ideal, to say nothing of the Eldar's distraction operations (which also steadily bled out the Tau forces on Tijuana and their auxiliaries).

Not all the Eldar attacks had been successful of course. From the first and only (and failed) attempt at diplomacy between the Tau and the Eldar over Tijuana, the Tau had known that for some inexplicable reason the Eldar had it out for the Fourfold Ideal.

Once the Eldar had been confirmed as behind the attacks, Shas'O Har'rax had stationed Fire Warriors to guard the properties of the Fourfold Ideal as an organization, as well as the residences of their more prominent members and leaders. Rapid-response teams were also prepared to reinforce the guards where and when needed, while the Tau's strategy to deal with the Eldar interlopers had been adjusted as per the tenets of Kauyon, the Patient Hunter, allowing the Tau to finally respond to the Eldar effectively, if largely still on the defensive.

In particular, the Eldar's primary base of operations on the planet remained unaccounted for, and the Tau still found it difficult to face the Eldar in the wilderness. And in space, the Tau currently lacked the ability to find much less challenge the Eldar Fleet in-system to decisive battle.

So far though, apart from destroying the communications relay and the patrol Orca, the Eldar Fleet had stayed quiet… _so far_.

And as a result, the orbital defenses remained on alert.

One operator was drinking from a polymer cup of water when alarms and sirens suddenly erupted to life. Flashing icons appeared on sensor screens, rapidly closing the distance to the orbitals and the orbital docks, along with larger icons that indicated warships.

Warships that somehow had appeared out of nowhere.

"Incoming torpedoes!" one operator shouted. "Reading sixteen, eight each headed for the orbitals to our flanks. This is…they're Imperial torpedoes! I repeat, they're Imperial torpedoes!"

"What?" Shas'el Miraish shouted in surprise from the command deck. "How did they…how many are they? And have the orbitals intercept, and have our Barracudas and Mantas commence emergency launch! Hurry!"

"I read one…one light cruiser-equivalent, and fourteen _Cobra_ Class Destroyers." One Gue'vesa operator said, her voice quaking with fear.

"Equivalent?" her Fire Caste supervisor echoed. "Can't you identify the class?"

The operator turned, her face a mask of barely controlled terror. "It's the Space Marines!" she blurted out, causing gasps and cries of fear and horror from the Humans present.

"The Space Marines…"

"The Emperor's Angels of Death…"

"Emperor preserve us…what have we done?"

"Impacts!"

* * *

The orbitals' defense turrets flared bright again and again, magnetic forces hurling super-dense projectiles at hypersonic speeds at targets set by advanced targeting AIs, but while they managed to shoot down several torpedoes, it wasn't enough. Bright blue plasma flared through the darkness of space, followed by orange and white flares as the orbitals exploded, burning hulks beginning to spiral down, trailing debris as their orbits began to decay.

Two squadrons of four _Cobras_ each began to burn retros, adopting screening formations against approaching Tau Manta bombers. While not as optimized for the role as the _Sword_ Class, their weapon batteries could still throw out significant firepower when concentrated as a squadron.

The remaining squadron of six _Cobras_ fired another volley of twelve torpedoes, aiming for the orbital docks this time. And then they too began to burn retros, to screen the strike cruiser as it continued to advance towards the orbital docks.

Mantas now screamed in, flares burning through the void as Imperial AA fire lit up the approaches, trying to pick the bombers off. The bombers dispersed, some going for the _Cobras_ , while others went for the strike cruiser.

"Standby…" the commander of the lead formation said over the encrypted line as he soared down towards the Imperial capital ship. "…standby…standby…commence bombing run!"

Capacitors and electromagnets whined as the Manta's railgun battery fired, explosions bursting across the Imperial warship where hypersonic rounds had struck it. More explosions followed as the rest of the squadron performed their own bombing runs, and then the squadron leader hissed in dismay.

"No damage," he said. "That ship's heavily-armored…!"

And then he was flinching from a series of explosions, as his wingmen were shot out of the sky. Coming from below were bulky Imperial gunships, identified by his Manta's computers as 'Thunderhawks'. "Where are our escorts?" he roared, narrowly-avoiding a deadly volley of crimson death by a Thunderhawk's lascannons.

Almost as if on cue, Barracudas soared down the z-axis, burst cannons blazing at the Space Marine Thunderhawks. They dispersed, sparks flying from where burst cannon rounds struck and glanced off their armored hulls.

A dogfight ensued, the Thunderhawks using their heavy armament to keep the Barracudas from getting a good shot in, and when they coul the burst cannons were found to be largely ineffective against Thunderhawk armor. The ion cannon was more effective, and actually managed to damage a Thunderhawk severely enough to force it to retreat, though a pair of overeager Barracuda pilots attempting to pursue found themselves caught in a crossfire between three Thunderhawks to their death.

The Barracudas continued to pursue the Thunderhawks, which wove and swooped their way across the battlefield with agility and speed unexpected of their ungainly shapes. Soaring towards a turning _Cobra_ , they abruptly broke and dispersed…

…as the _Cobra_ fired its weapons battery, immolating nearly an entire squadron of Barracudas in laser fire.

* * *

Meanwhile, boarding torpedoes slammed into the orbital docks, intruder alerts screaming as they did so. A few torpedoes had been shot down by the orbital docks' AA turrets, but most made it through.

Hatches burst open, Spire Guard Veterans rushing out with lasguns at the ready. Gue'vesa and Earth Caste security arms-men took the brunt of the Spire Guard's wrath, laser rounds burning through security vests, their burst carbines ineffective against void-sealed carapace armor.

The Spire Guard advanced doggedly down the corridors, shooting at anything that moved, individuals fire-teams breaking off to secure rooms as they passed. Tossing frag grenades in the moment the doors were opened, the guardsmen then stormed the rooms and killed any survivors before rejoining the rest of their platoons as they advanced.

Fanning out from their entry points, the Spire Guard linked up their forces into a 'beachhead', setting up barricades and sealing up pressure doors (and welding them shut), forcing the Tau to come to them.

And come they did.

A squad of Fire Warriors blew through a pressure door, only for the first two Fire Warriors to come through to be shot to pieces by an autocannon. The rest took cover against the walls, but the autocannon continued to roar, suppressing the Tau as a flamer-armed guardsman crept in close, and then aiming the special weapon through the ruined pressure door, pulled the trigger.

Screams filled the air as the Tau were burned alive, unanimously rushing out flailing to be cut down – mercifully perhaps – by the Spire Guard's autocannon.

In another section, three Spire Guard squads held a junction with automatic fire, autocannons firing in bursts while guardsmen opened fire on full-auto with their lasguns between autocannon bursts or while the autocannons were reloaded. Every so often, a flamer would send a jet of liquid flame down a corridor.

The distance meant it was less effective than it would normally be in an enclosed space, but the random bursts of liquid flame kept the Tau from getting too comfortable with the relatively-static pattern of autocannon and laser fire. Other guardsmen manned vox kits, while others hacked into the orbital docks' network to disrupt the enemy's command and control.

And then the entire orbital docks shook, as the _Isometric_ forced its way into one of the docking bays. Metal structures tore away as the strike cruiser ground to a halt, and then boarding tubes extended out to slam against the dock walls on either side. Boarding charges blew the walls open, Spire Guard pouring out further from the back, Fire Warriors already rushing in to intercept.

And to front, they found themselves up against a squad of Thousand Sons each.

" _For the Emperor and the Crimson King!_ " the Thousand Sons telepathically pulsed their legion's war-cry, staggering Tau and Gue'vesa traitors from the psychic intrusion, others dying with blood pouring from noses and ruined eye sockets, unable to endure the sheer force of the Astartes' thoughts.

Pulse fire spat against the Thousand Sons, only to explode harmlessly against transparent shields of telekinetic force. The Thousand Sons returned fire, bolt shells encased in sheaths of psychic flame, burning through armor and flesh as though they were plasma, before exploding and killing xenos and traitor alike without mercy.

" _Ashes to ashes,_ " the Thousand Sons pulsed their war-cry, driving the Tau back from the dock and allowing the Spire Guard to mop up their rear and consolidate. " _Dust to dust!_ "

* * *

Deep beneath the bowels of the orbital docks, a group of Gue'vesa gathered themselves in a circular room, stripped bare and with an eight-pointed star drawn in blood on the floor. In four alcoves set into the walls, a marble bust of the Emperor rested, staring sternly into the room.

In the middle of the Star of Chaos, a woman stood naked, muttering to herself, her body daubed in arcane symbols in four substances with arcane symbolism to the ritual: blood, brain fluid, bile, and semen.

Four others were in the room, all men, and like the woman stripped naked, only unlike her only had a single substance and symbol daubed on their forehead. One had the Mark of Khorne in blood, another the Mark of Tzeentch in brain fluid, a third the Mark of Nurgle in bile, and the fourth the Mark of Slaanesh in semen.

As one, they began to deface the busts of the Emperor, the woman's muttering growing in volume as they did so, punctuated regularly with increasingly-shrill screams. The symbols daubed over her began to glow and smoke, burning with unholy fire and searing themselves into her flesh and soul alike.

The woman began to rise, her scream turning into an unearthly wail as ghastly light boiled out of her eyes and gaping mouth, blood beginning to pour from the debased busts of the Emperor. The men also began to float as well, orbiting the woman and slowly spiraling in towards her with increasing speed.

The man daubed with the Mark of Khorne roared incoherently as he did so, the man daubed with the Mark of Tzeentch babbled inanely in tongues, the man daubed with the Mark of Nurgle gurgled dumbly, and the man daubed with the Mark of Slaanesh moaned in ecstasy.

And then the five came together, unearthly light filling the room to blinding, the blood-weeping busts of the Emperor melting in unholy flame moments before the entire room exploded.

Aboard the _Isometric_ , the astropaths screamed.

Aboard the _Isometric_ and across the orbital docks, Thousand Sons gasped and staggered as they realized that something had gone terribly wrong.

On the planet below, witches screamed in triumph while psykers went mad, raving at the coming of a herald of the gods, or simply died in agony, unable to endure the ripples the daemonic summoning had sent through the ether. Worse, others exploded to form miniature gateways into the Warp, thankfully stable enough only to allow a single Lesser Daemon at worst through before collapsing, but the activities of the cults and now the summoning in the skies above had sufficiently thinned the veil that while still weakened by no direct connection with the Immaterium, daemons could now wander the shadows wreaking terror as they went.

And in the desert, Farseer Macha opened her eyes, her meditation disturbed, her beautiful face twisted with a mix of dismay and anger. " _Isha's grace,_ " she thought. " _This is not good at all._ "

* * *

A/N

Through a herculean effort, the writer's block is overcome! For the Crimson King!


	6. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer 40,000 it is owned by Games Workshop.

Disclaimer: _The Roboutian Heresy_ is a FanFiction penned by Zahariel. I have received permission from him to set this piece within the universe of _The Roboutian Heresy_.

Blood of Ignorance

Chapter 4

Cabal Master Cyril Velarion cursed as he fired his bolter, sending bolt rounds sheathed in psychic flame punching through Tau and Tau-corrupted Humans alike. He could feel the presence of the daemon through the ether, like a festering sore in the back of the mind, and more than that it's attention wasn't just fixed on him and his brothers, it was _here_. The daemon had manifested in reality, something that should not be _was_.

" _Brothers!_ " he pulsed the thought. " _Daemonic intrusion! Guard your thoughts, and be wary! Stand together as one in mind, flesh, spirit, a brotherhood of iron in the light against the darkness!_ "

 _ **CABal…mastER…velaaaarION…WE…Are…heEERE…WE…see…YOuuuu…**_

" _I will suffer no trespass, daemon!_ " Cyril hurled the thought back, and reached out to touch his brothers' minds and souls. They grasped back, unreal and yet _soothing_ in the madness of the Warp, like morning Sun at dawn on a winter's day. Light bloomed amidst the darkness, warmth spreading and washing over them to wrap them in its protective embrace, brothers standing as one against the evil of Chaos. " _Knowledge is power!_ "

… _ **yoU…HAAvE…noooo power…HEE…**_

" _AND WE GUARD IT WELL!_ " the Thousand Sons hurled the thought as one, and blasting back the daemon's presence with unbreakable will. The currents of the Warp roiled, impossibly pulled free in part of the daemon's control, though what was left quickly darkened with its rage, a rage that grew even stronger and yet impotent as what little taint it slipped through their light was burned away by the searing, etheric weave that was bound protectively over their souls.

The Rubric of Ahriman: curse and salvation in equal measure, the bittersweet ward of the XV Legion against the vengeful fury of the Changer of Ways.

Incoherent whispers pounded at their mind, and their light in the Warp flickered as the daemon assailed it, but the brothers stood as one, the whispers fading into nothing in but an instant, and the light never faltering. " _THE EMPEROR AND THE CRIMSON KING!_ " Cyril pulsed as he fired his bolter.

" _HAIL!_ " his brothers responded. More enemies were approaching…Tau, fleeing in terror from something, only to find no salvation as they fled, only death by the Thousand Sons' bolts and the lasers of the Spire Guard. But there were others behind them…

…Humans, Humans who'd turned their backs on the Imperium and the Emperor, and embraced the foolish and naïve teachings of the Tau. In so doing they'd bared their souls and left them unprotected to the agents and slaves of the Great Enemy, and walked unwittingly down the path of damnation.

Most still wore the uniforms of the xenos allegiance that had marked their first step to damnation, some with armor over it, but all wore the maddened eyes of those touched uncleanly by the Warp, and many were covered in blood and ritual carvings. Images flashed through Cyril's mind…

… _a woman wept on the floor as three men had their way with her, tears turning to unclean delight and pleasure as their pain and pleasure drew a spell that stirred the currents of the Warp…_

… _blood and gore splattered the walls and floor, men and women madly feasting on the bones and flesh of their own and their xenos slavers…_

… _a man screamed incoherently as he struck his victim again and again, blood and gore flying with every blow…_

" _Behold, brothers!_ " Cyril telepathically roared, bolt fire ripping through the ranks of the lost alongside blasts of psychic fire from the Pyrae. " _The fate of an unguarded mind: madness and heresy, damnation and ruin, slavery and death!_ "

" _Drink of the fount of knowledge,_ " the Thousand Sons responded. " _Trust in the Senses of Man, but guard yourself with the Gifts of Wisdom and Reason, and in so doing find and understand the Truth!_ "

" _Knowledge is power!_ "

" _AND WE GUARD AT WELL!_ "

* * *

Blasting charges blew the door open, and Spire Guard stormed through. A pair of cultists were reeling on the floor, and were quickly dispatched with a shot to the head each. "Oomes," Sergeant Hathor ordered. "Take point."

"Roger, sir."

The guardsman did as ordered, briefly flattening himself against the wall next to another door on the opposite side of the chamber, and checking around the doorframe cautiously advanced down the stairs to another door. The sound of hushed voices could be heard through, and Oomes briefly flattened himself against one side of the door.

Taking a deep breath, he rushed out, lasgun rising to cover a trio of scarred cultists standing to one side of a long table that dominated the room. The scars were fresh, raw and red with dried blood, clearly newly-cut and cauterized one way or another. Displaced air cracked as Oomes, fired, his squadmates covering him from behind as he took cover behind a series of crates to his right.

Two of the cultists went down to Oomes' fire, the third avoiding his fire by dodging to the side, only to be cut down by Oomes' squadmates. "Clear!" Oomes shouted, though he kept his lasgun aimed at a door on the corner to the left in front of them.

His caution would be rewarded as when the squad filed into the room, the door burst open and a cultist charged out, veins distended and carrying a heavy stubber in his arms. Oomes fired as the cultist aimed at his squads, and landed a trio of shots into the cultist's chest. To his surprise the man didn't drop, no doubt thanks to the combat drugs that allowed him to carry a heavy weapon in the first place, though another volley of laser fire from the squad finally brought him down, in particular a shot straight through the forehead courtesy of the squad markswoman, Corporal Nitetis.

Sergeant Hathor wasn't taking chances though. A series of hand gestures had the squad taking covering positions, while Trooper Binra advanced with his flamer. Aiming the special weapon at the door at an angle, the guardsman pulled the trigger and sent liquid flame gushing into the room beyond.

Pained roaring was heard, and in a moment a hugely-muscled cultist rushed out flailing. A volley of laser fire threw him back against the wall, and then to their shock the cultist recovered and with a roar charged at them. Lasers lashed out twice more, and finally the cultist toppled facedown.

"Secure the room!" Sergeant Hathor bellowed out.

Guardsmen rushed to secure the room, Oomes taking his lasgun's butt against a misshapen figurine that _hurt_ to look at standing on a plinth in the corner. And he didn't hesitate to crush the fragments beneath his boot.

"Clear!"

"Clear over here!"

"Right, prepare to move out!" Sergeant Hathor shouted. "Flanking positions on that door!"

Guardsmen did as ordered, taking up positions beside another closed door on the far right of the chamber. As soon as they opened, heavy stubber fire roared through the door, along with that of regular stubbers. "Binra," the sergeant said. "Standby on your flamer. The rest of you, cover fire!"

"Yes, sir!"

Without bothering to aim, guardsmen aimed their lasguns around the doorframe, and fired in the general direction from where the heavy stubber was firing. The roaring of the heavy weapon continued unabated for several moments, and then cut out with a cry of pain. At once, Binra stepped into the open and fired his flamer.

Liquid fire jetted out, and filled the air with the sound of screaming. Binra kept up the heat for several seconds, and then lowered his flamer. "Mop them up." The sergeant said with a gesture, the Spire Guard rushing cautiously into the room.

The cultists manning the heavy stubber were dead, though those hiding amidst the metal shelves to either side of the central aisle were still alive, but lying helpless in pain on the ground. A las bolt or two were enough to deal with them, and the dead ones were shot just in case.

The sudden sound of stubber fire sent the Spire Guard into cover however, the two of their fellows checking the corpses of the cultists' heavy weapons team staggering as stubber rounds bounced off against their carapace armor. Rushing for the shelves, they ducked behind cover as more cultist charged in from the door.

"Prepare for hand to hand!"

The cultist screamed as they charged the Spire Guard with clubs and heavy tools and other makeshift weapons. The Spire Guard met their charge with bayonets and the butts of their lasguns, Oomes stabbing one cultist through the chest and sweeping him slammed the butt of his lasgun into another cultist's torso. The cultist staggered back before the next blow bashed him in the face.

Oomes fell back as the cultist fell, firing once, twice, three times. Cultists fell with every shot, and then a hulking mutant roared in, flailing and throwing its fellows aside as it charged into battle. Oomes fired his lasgun at the monster, as did several of his fellow Spire Guard.

Bloody wounds were blown into the mutant's flesh, but it only served to make it angrier. Grabbing a pair of its fellow cultists, it threw them against the Spire Guard who were sent flying. The mutant drew itself up and roared…

…and staggered back in shock and pain, its throat a mangled ruin from a laspistol shot by Binra, who'd gone to ground to the rear. With his primary weapon being a flamer, he'd hung back and only taken potshots with his sidearm, but this one shot was right on the money.

A second shot in the same spot further staggered the mutant, and then with shouts several Spire Guard threw itself on the mutant. Caught by surprise, the monster was unable to balance itself and fell back. And before it could recover, one of the Spire Guard took the nearest available weapon – ironically one of the cultists' stubbers – and emptied its ammo at full auto into the mutant's face.

Blood pooled on the floor as the Spire Guard got off the corpse, other guardsmen moving to secure the rest of the room. Once they were sure the mutant was dead, the guardsmen who'd put it down retrieved their lasgun, with the one who'd used a cultist's stubber tossing it aside and making the Sign of the Aquila followed by a Prayer of Atonement for using a potentially-tainted weapon before retrieving his lasgun.

"Area secure!"

"Let's move up!"

Leaving the storeroom behind, Squad Hathor left through the other door, up a stairway and through a series of empty corridors. Every so often they'd come across a room, though most were empty. In one several terrified women, clearly custodial staff from the look of their uniforms, were found hiding but were left alone by the Spire Guard.

The Inquisition or the legion would handle them later, though they were simply told to stay put.

As they advanced, crackling on their micro-beads indicated the presence of nearby Spire Guard units. "This is Sergeant Zet Hathor, 65th Company, Spire Guard." Sergeant Hathor said into his micro-bead after gesturing for the squad to halt and go to ground, and retuned his micro-bead. "Identify yourselves."

The sergeant had to repeat himself several times before a response came true. "Sergeant Hathor," a familiar voice came over the micro-bead. "This is Lieutenant Tiakken. Status report."

"Yes sir." The sergeant said. "We've secured the storerooms along our area of responsibility, and are moving towards the route to the command center."

"…pinned down along junction…niner…"

"Please repeat that sir, you're breaking up."

"Pinned down along…repeat…"

"Sir?"

There was no response, and the Spire Guard looked at each other uneasily. After another moment though the connection cleared. "Sergeant Hathor," the lieutenant said, the sound of las and stubber fire audible in the background. "Please come in, Sergeant Hathor!"

"This is Sergeant Hathor. Lieutenant?"

"Bring up your map of our area of responsibility."

"Yes sir."

The sergeant briefly fumbled to pull a data slate out of his webbing, and activating it synced it to the Spire Guard's network. The lieutenant quickly highlighted a section for them to clear and advance from.

"Break the stalemate, sergeant." Lieutenant Tiakken said. "Once we clear this section, the command section is at the end."

"Yes sir!"

Showing their new route to the rest of the squad, the sergeant stowed his data slate and led them along their way. The guardsmen replaced the power packs for their lasguns, with Binra checking his flamer's pilot light.

As they advanced, the sound of gunfire steadily grew, until they reached a corner. Peering around it, they saw several cultists taking cover along the wall and a barricade lying across the main corridor, and more cultists on another corridor beyond. Another heavy stubber had been set up behind the barricade, and was steadily laying down fire on Imperial positions further down.

"Corporal Nitetis?"

"Yes sir?"

"Can you set off their ammo from here?"

The petite woman just smirked, and the sergeant nodded. "Good," she said. "Alright boys and girls, standby to storm the enemy flank. We'll let Nitetis take the first shot, and take out as many of those heretics out all at once while taking some heat off our boys further down. Got it?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

Sergeant Hathor nodded at his men, and then at Corporal Nitetis. The woman nodded back, and then crouching down carefully stepped out into the open. It took only a couple of moments to steady her aim, and then a single, ruby-red lance of light shot out.

It struck the heavy stubber's ammo box, blowing it apart and setting off the rounds inside. Pandemonium erupted as bullets and shrapnel sprayed out, compounded by the las fire coming from the Spire Guard as they stormed forward.

The cultists tried to rally, but with their heavy weapon out of commission and unable to remain under cover while responding to the flank attack, they were gunned down from the front and the side. "Don't let up!" Sergeant Hathor said, firing his lasgun and turning one of the cultist's chests into a bloody ruin.

Oomes did just that, a pair of las rounds all but blowing off a cultist's limb and searing a chunk off his chest. A stubber round bounced off his pauldron, throwing his aim awry, but it was easy enough to correct…

An explosion from the left sent Oomes flying, over the barricade and sprawling out across the corridor floor. As he slid to a halt, he just lay there, stunned and with ears ringing, staring up at the ceiling as cold began to spread through his body.

Incoherent whispers ghosted through his mind, but despite his injuries Oomes ignored them, refusing to hear much less _understand_ what they were saying, knowing that if he even tried, he would go mad. Struggling to an elbow, his eyes widened in horror as he saw Corporal Nitetis lying not far from him, slack and with her head twisted at an oblique angle, blood dripping from her mouth.

The sound of Binra's anguished screaming drew his attention, while the…air? His body?

It was…cold…getting cold…so cold…

Something…that was once Human, floated through the air, its flesh pallid with veins throbbing unnaturally here and there. Its mouth worked and babbled out nonsense, but at the sound Oomes felt his eardrums burst, the whispers growing louder.

But even at the presence of this… _thing_ , Oomes remembered what he'd been taught, first at school and again during training, both as part of the PDF and again as one of the elite Spire Guard. He would _not_ listen. He would _not_ break, and he would _not_ open himself up to the Warp.

The whispers rose to a crescendo, and then the thing stared down at Oomes. The guardsman's body was so cold, so very cold, he could barely move, and his breath steamed as he gasped in horror. The things' eyes were gone, just ruined and bloody eye sockets that trailed blood down its face, but amidst those cavities burned two points of purple fire.

The thing raised its hand at Oomes, flesh contorting and twisting to form a grotesque mockery of a mouth. Dimly, Oomes saw through cold-induced stupor las fire exploding harmlessly before it could reach the thing, and its…hand turned mouth opened, blue light erupting…

…and Oomes knew nothing more.

* * *

"Squad Hathor's been wiped out!"

"Hold position, and concentrate your fire!" Lieutenant Tiakken's voice cracked like a whip. "Take out that daemonhost!"

Lasfire cracked through the air in crimson streams of death, only to expend themselves harmlessly against an invisible sphere of force surrounding the daemonhost. In response, it raised a hand, light gathering in a sphere for a few moments before exploding outward.

The Spire Guard and their barricade were sent flying several feet, though it took Lieutenant Tiakken only a couple of moments to recover. Slowly rolling on all fours and shaking his head, whispers clogged the lieutenant's mind, but with a herculean effort he shut them out, and then turned in his head at the sound of maddened laughter.

One of the Spire Guard nearby was scratching at his face, babbling and cackling, his eyes bloodshot and mad. The lieutenant stared in horror for a moment, and then scrambled for his sidearm.

Pulling it out, he aimed it at the madman, or would have had the former Spire Guard not pounced on him, scrambling for the lieutenant's throat. "We live, we fight, we die, and we live again, all in their…!" the madman shrieked before his head blew apart in a crimson spray.

Pushing the corpse off him, the lieutenant scrambled away, and glanced to where the shot came from. Another guardsman nodded at the lieutenant, and then turned to the slowly-approaching daemonhost.

"OPEN FIRE!" Lieutenant Tiakken shouted, likewise aiming his laspistol at the daemonhost. "For the Emperor!"

Lasfire from the Spire Guard lashed out against the daemonhost, again to no avail. Hair stood on end as the abomination laughed, and then the air seemed to grow heavy and oppressing, eardrums protesting in agony.

Displaced air thundered explosively, accompanied by four blinding flashes of light. Daemonic laughter turned into an inhuman scream as the daemonhost was cut in two from shoulder to hip, the corpse's halves bursting into the same golden flames that wreathed the force weapon that had banished the daemon within.

"By the throne…" one Spire Guard whispered.

"Terminators…" Another said.

The lead Terminator turned, eyepieces glowing a bright green against the crimson helmet. "Lieutenant Tiakken, is it not?" Legion Champion Constantine Nemean – recognizable even through the modulation of the helmet's speakers – said. "Reorganize your men, and follow up behind us."

"Yes, my lord!"

The champion nodded as best he could within the constraints of his Terminator Armor, and then with the rest of his squad, advanced down the corridor. In the meantime, the lieutenant turned back to his men.

"You heard the lord champion," he barked. "We're to follow up! Gather the survivors, patch up what you can, and prepare to move out! And get in touch with our other Spire Guard, I want status reports on the double!"

"Sir, yes sir!"

* * *

Four XV Legion Terminators advanced through the command section's corridors, their footsteps heavy and loud in the empty corridors. There were rooms along the way, but cursory scans revealed nothing of interest beyond, and so they were ignored.

No, the Thousand Sons were focused on another, more dangerous foe. Even the daemonhost from earlier was nothing compared to yet another, more powerful Neverborn that had been summoned forth into reality by the misguided actions of the mad.

Though, why it had moved into the command center, they knew not, only that it had.

Finally, the Thousand Sons reached their destination, a great pair of double doors leading into the command center. A relic of Imperial days, the doors had been stripped of the iconography so characteristic of Imperial construction, but the fundamentals of the style were still there.

Checking their gear and their connection to each other, the four Thousand Sons literally marched through the doors, metal giving way against their bulk and squealing in protest as it was trampled underfoot. "By the Primarch…" Constantine murmured.

There had to be around a hundred of them, at least, Humans all bearing physical and psychic marks of being touched to one degree or another by the Great Enemy. They'd all gathered in the command center, and Constantine noted in alarm how many screens and stations had been debased with vile icons and symbolisms in blood of Human and xenos alike.

Corpses could be seen here and there, Humans and xenos both, some killed ritually and others not, and images ghosted through the Warp, of the cultists devouring the flesh of the sacrifices…even as they still lived and their souls were drawn out and fed to the Warp in agony. " _Abomination…_ " Constantine thought.

The cultists rushed the Thousand Sons, having expected them and indeed may have gathered here for that purpose. As one, the four Thousand Sons raised their hands, psychic flame gathering in their palms. In the next moment, great sheets of fire washed out over the advancing hordes, melting flesh from bone and immolating tainted souls down to nothing: the only mercy the Thousand Sons would give them.

Fully a third of the cultists perished in that volley of psychic fire, and another third perished in a second volley. Behind his helmet however, Constantine narrowed his eyes as he sensed the Warp shift, and that his brothers sensed it too.

The daemon was coming.

It wasn't here now, but it soon would be. And it would be coming through that ragged hole in the floor in the middle of the command center. " _Brothers,_ " Constantine pulsed. " _With me!_ "

" _Advance as one!_ "

The four Thousand Sons drew their storm bolters as one and opened fire while quickly advancing. Cultists flew apart under the hail of explosive bolts, and then they were in range for hand to hand.

Force swords burned with golden flames as they hacked Chaos-touched Humans to pieces, or were simply thrown aside with brute force impacts from the hugely-armored trans-Humans. Those who fell were trampled underfoot, and then the Warp _screamed_.

A powerful telekinetic blast erupted outward, buffeting the legionaries and sending cultists flying. The Thousand Sons focused on the daemon as it rose into the air, a large sphere of flesh with four deformed faces staring out in the four cardinal directions.

"Eternal…greed…" one face gurgled out.

"Eternal…slaughter…" another said.

The Thousand Sons raised their storm bolters and fired. Bolt rounds exploded harmlessly against a kine-field, and one of the faces screamed at them. Again, a powerful telekinetic blast went out, this time focused on Constantine. His brothers scrambled out of the way as the champion was blasted back, arms crossed in front of him, but managing to stay on his feet between the support of his armor and his own resolve.

 _ **Weee…seeE…YOuurrr…souLLL…CONsttanntiiiiNE NEMEaaaaaaaaaaaN…AND…IT…IS…OURS!**_

Constantine's response was to send a comet-like blast of fire at the daemon, only for it to explode harmlessly against the kine-field. And then the daemon opened its eyes.

 _A boy sat on a woody hill, staring out over green fields in spring. The boy felt the stealthy approach from behind him but said and did nothing, save to smile fondly. A pair of soft hands came down over his eyes, and the boy grinned as he reached._

" _Guess who?" the girl asked._

" _Mileina, isn't it?"_

 _The girl giggled and ran off, the boy chasing after her through the woods. "If you catch me, I'll be your bride!" she said over a shoulder, and the boy grinned wider in expectation._

" _Alright," he said, picking up the pace. "Get ready to live up to that!"_

 _The girl just giggled while continuing to lead the boy on a merry chase through the woods, the wind picking up and sending leaves flying through the air…_

 _ **SHE WAS A BEAUTIFUL THING, WAS SHE NOT?**_

 _ **SUCH A SHAME NOTHING CAME OF IT, NO THANKS TO THE CORPSE GOD'S DEMANDS.**_

 _Years had passed since then, and the boy and the girl were now older, at the height of adolescence. The boy stood wearing the featureless grey of an aspirant to the Scholastica Psykana, with two uniformed guards from the League of Black Ships standing watchfully on either side to take him away, the rest of the townsfolk looking on sadly._

" _We both knew this day would come." The boy said._

" _Will you come back?" the girl asked._

 _The boy shook his head. "I don't know." He said. "Though it's best I don't. The life I'll have…the responsibilities that come with my gift…I wouldn't want you to share the burden. You'll be happier that way."_

" _NO!" the girl said, throwing herself at the boy. "Without you I won't be the least bit happy!"_

" _Mileina_ _…"_

 _ **BUT SUCH IS THE FATE OF THE GIFTED IN THE CORPSE GOD'S KINGDOM IS IT NOT?**_

 _ **THEY ARE BROKEN AND CHAINED ON HIS ALTARS, UNABLE TO REACH THEIR FULL POTENTIAL, NEVER TO TRULY TASTE THE FRUIT OF THEIR GIFTS, ALL BECAUSE THE BLIND AND WEAKLING WELPS THAT SNIVEL AND MOAN AT THE FOOT OF HIS TOMB FEAR THEM SO.**_

 _ **OR WORSE YET, SIMPLY FED TO HIS FURNACES, SO AS TO KEEP THE CORPSE GOD'S DEATH SCREAM ECHOING FOR JUST A BIT LONGER.**_

 _ **BUT YOU…CONSTANTINE NEMEAN…THINGS MAY YET BE DIFFERENT…**_

 _Mileina stood before him, Constantine standing as he used to be, before the Black Ships, before the Chaplains of the Thousand Sons had found him worthy and taken him to Terathalion. They stood before an altar beneath an eight-pointed star, amidst the green fields of the world he was born on, in the warm evening of summer beneath the stars._

 _She smiled at him, and held out a hand. "_ _ **It's not too late, Constantine.**_ _" She said. "_ _ **You can still go back. Back to me. We can still be happy together, just you and me, and start a family here, away from the war, death, and suffering that the Corpse God would ask you face. All you have to do, is take my hand. Let it go. Just let it go.**_ _"_

 _Constantine closed his eyes for an instant and an eternity…_

… _and opening it beheld only a rotting corpse on a dead land of rot and ruination. And raising his storm bolter, Constantine said the only thing he could say, and pulled the trigger._

"For the Emperor."

* * *

A/N

Wow, it's been a while since the last update yes? Time for some action then, an explosive start to the first chapter in a long while.

Let's see…first of all, thanks to Zahariel as the beta for this chapter. Next, yes…Brotherhood of Psykers is more than just a tabletop rule, it can be used as a device in a story too. Also, nothing is sacred for the Daemons of the Warp, anything can be used to try and corrupt those who call upon the Warp's power.


End file.
